


Over the Wall

by cherie_morte



Category: Supernatural RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Prison, Drug Addiction, Drug Use, M/M, Past Child Abuse, Prison, Prison Sex, Suicidal Thoughts, morally gray!Jensen, prison bitch!Jared
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-25
Updated: 2018-01-25
Packaged: 2019-03-09 10:10:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 29,469
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13479252
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cherie_morte/pseuds/cherie_morte
Summary: The achronological he said-he said account of Jared and Jensen's jailhouse romance.





	Over the Wall

**Author's Note:**

> Written as a criminally late [spn_j2_xmas](https://spn-j2-xmas.livejournal.com) gift for [blackbluerose](https://blackbluerose.livejournal.com). I really hope you enjoy this, despite the long wait. The idea kept spiraling and I wanted to write you the best version I could! You asked for a story where Jared is a prison bitch with hurt!Jared and a protective/possessive/dark!Jensen. I'm sorry that I couldn't avoid Jensen POV entirely, but I did alternate (using The Last Five Year's backwards-forwards POV narration format, so god only knows if that worked).
> 
> Title is from the Broadway version of The Kiss of the Spider Woman and the book is probably more than a little responsible for my love of prison fic. All my knowledge of U.S. prisons was formed through pop culture, so please do approach this with a bit of a grain of salt. I did my best to research when I was unsure how something would work, and so so many thanks to [Bockver](https://twitter.com/BockVer) for all the free legal advice, but there are bound to be inaccuracies here. Hopefully they will not be glaring enough to make the fic unenjoyable! Finally, a million thanks and apologies and kisses blown over the internet to the forgiving xmas mods/saints who did not throw me out of the challenge despite the fact that I am posting this one full month after the deadline.
> 
> ETA: My incredibly talented friend [sweetheartdean](https://twitter.com/sweetheartdean) did the gorgeous art piece that is included with the story. Check it out [on twitter](https://twitter.com/sweetheartdean/status/957106878030413826) and please let her know how gorgeous it is!!

**JENSEN**

It's lights out at ten p.m.

That's reassuring, in a way. In twelve hours, there won't be light anywhere for anything in Jensen's life, but for now, the blackout is just business as usual. Routine chugging along like a train. It’s dull and depressing, sure, but dependable. Nothing in here changes except the people.

He's jostled and shoved up to the wall as someone climbs onto his cot and Jensen reaches out, feels the thick, canvas-like fabric of someone else's uniform and, under that, 200 pounds of skin and bones on a six-foot-infinity-inch frame.

"It's too early," Jensen says, but his hands circle Jared's stomach and pull him in. "They haven't done the rounds yet."

"I don't care," Jared replies, wiggling his way in even closer, as if he's trying to make a point. It's probably a comical sight, someone Jared's size hanging half off this sorry excuse for a bed, but Jensen's not really in a laughing mood.

"You get in trouble tonight, you blow it," he says. "Don't be an idiot. Go back to your bunk."

Jared shakes his head, and Jensen's got nothing to do but let him win. Sending Jared away right now—tonight—is a little more than he can muster.

"Fine." Jensen shrugs and fixes his voice like he doesn't care. "Just don't blame me if—"

"Shh." Jared puts a finger over his lips. "Let's just not talk about it."

Jensen swallows a lump and nods, not even sure if Jared can see it. He'll feel it at least.

Anyone else in Jared's shoes, they don't shut up about it. But his boy is kinder than that. He don't make Jensen think about tomorrow. He plays this like it's any other night, turning until he settles onto his stomach so Jensen can climb on top.

Finally, they fit. Stacked on a thin metal frame and the glorified pillow they're supposed to call a mattress, same way they always do. Jensen dreams of different, of spreading Jared out someday on a bed made for two to share, of fucking him with the lights on, and looking into his face. The way people in love do. But dreams are for free men, and Jensen doesn't waste a lot of time on them.

This is what he gets instead: the back of Jared's head, the rough fabric of their pants shoved down just far enough, a need to restrain himself so the bed won't snap in half under them and the noise doesn't give them away.

"Please," Jared whispers. And, "Want you so bad." Like he doesn't know where he is and what this is and has mistaken it for something more than they’re allowed. Jensen made that same mistake, but that was before tomorrow was such a goddamn harsh reality, looming just a few hours away.

"Shut up," he growls, because he doesn't want to be reminded how pretty Jared's begging is, not right now. 

Jensen is hard already—it's hard not to be when Jared curls up and starts rubbing against him. Jared whimpers a little and hides his face in Jensen's pillow as Jensen shoves in. He always comes to Jensen prepared, always so sloppy and needy and never once in Jensen's experience not ready to be fucked. Jensen tries not to think about what kind of life necessitated that the same way he tries not to wonder if what he does to Jared counts as rape or not.

He hears Jared's heavy breaths under him as he starts to move, and Jared rocks just hardly enough for Jensen to feel it, trying so damn hard not to let the bed scrape on the floor. Jensen has to bite his lip to keep his own sounds in, because even limited like this, Jared knows how to make it feel good.

Usually, Jensen is smart about this. Tonight, he gets lost. He's too busy focusing on the hitches in Jared's breathing and memorizing which jerks of his hips make Jared choke on his pleasure. For once it's Jared, falling apart under him, whining into the pillow, almost-loud though he is, that has to put a pause on things.

"Fuck," he says, slumping. "Guards."

"Told you," Jensen lectures as he drops down on top of Jared, trying to pass for one person on the cot instead of two. "I told you it was too early."

"Didn't see you hesitating to put your dick in my ass," Jared whispers back at him.

Jensen claps a hand over his smartass mouth just as a flashlight shines into their cell. He turns his face toward the light and raises his other hand to his eyes, scowling. "Hey, you mind aiming that somewhere else? People are trying to sleep."

He hears a gruff "uh huh" from the guard, and the light does move off him, but not down the hallway or on to another cell like he'd been hoping. It shines right up onto the top bunk, and there's no way the C.O. won't be able to see that Jared's giant body isn’t in it.

There's a long period of silence and Jensen closes his eyes, hoping whoever this guard is won't care enough about procedure to make his own night harder by separating them and reporting the incident. They can't take Jared from him. Not tonight.

Finally, the guard speaks, letting Jensen at least know who he's dealing with. It's C.O. Morgan that says, "Padalecki?"

Eager to please as ever, Jared's head pops up and he says, "Yes?" before he realizes he's just given them both away, whispers "shit" and ducks down as if he can go back into hiding at this point.

It almost garners a laugh from Jensen, but instead he stays quiet, observant. Any other guard and Jensen would be able to guess how this will go. Either the guard is gonna be an asshole for the sake of it or they'll let whatever's happening go on undisturbed, because Jensen generally gets his way around here.

But Morgan's a wildcard. One of the few people working at Carver State Correctional Facility that doesn't supplement their shitty income with Ackles family bribes, but decent enough to let a couple of inmates get their kicks where they can, as long as he doesn't think…

"You're getting out tomorrow, isn't that right?" the guard asks.

"Yes, sir," Jared answers.

"So if someone was hurting you, you could tell me. And they wouldn't be able to do anything to you after. No matter who they are."

Jared replies, "I understand."

"You got anything you wanna report?" Morgan shines his flashlight on Jensen's bed again. "Anything at all?"

"No, sir," Jared says, earnest as can be. "No one is hurting me."

Morgan hesitates a moment longer, like he's trying to decide whether he believes Jared or not, until finally the light clicks off and he says, "Good luck out there, son."

"Thank you, sir," Jared answers.

They're both hushed and still as they wait for Morgan to pass, until finally his footsteps are inaudible. Jensen thrusts immediately, his entire body stressed from the effort of not moving inside Jared for so long, and under him, Jared starts giggling.

"Really?" Jensen slaps his thigh to try to shut him up, but Jared only laughs more. "You wanna draw more attention to us right now?"

"I'm sorry," says Jared, who has never sounded less sorry about anything in all the time Jensen's known him. "I can't help it."

"What's so funny, anyway?"

"You," Jared replies as he pushes his ass up into Jensen. "Hard as a rock that whole time. I just have to wonder what it would take to kill your boner."

Jensen smirks, but he keeps his tone annoyed. "If you keep talking about it, that might work."

"Oh, yeah ri—" Jared replies, cutting himself off as Jensen fucks into him and he makes a soft moaning sound. "You can't hear enough about how big and strong you are. How much I love that hard cock of yours. How much I love—"

It takes another few rough thrusts to shut Jared up, but the job gets done before Jared can say anything too stupid. Jensen hammers into him until they both finish in their own discreet ways. First, Jared melts into Jensen's palm with a soft sigh and licks the evidence off Jensen's hand like a hungry puppy. Then Jensen shuts his eyes, focuses on the tight piece of paradise that's his and only his for the next fleeting few moments and after that…maybe never again.

When he comes, Jensen floods Jared, so whoever moves in next at least will know he lived here.

Then he pulls out and falls off to his side, yanking his pants up before his bare ass touches the cold, dirty wall behind him. Jared turns, too, to make room for Jensen, but also to look him in the face. Of course Jared isn't gonna let this be easy.

"Will you kiss me?" he asks, reaching up to touch Jensen's lips with the pads of his fingers. "Just this once?"

Jensen shakes his head, because he's too smart to talk. Even in silence, his throat feels thick with emotion. Just thinking the things he's feeling is making his voice crack. And it's not supposed to be like this, and he's supposed to be the one that holds the line, and he can't right now, so, yeah. Better not to say anything at all.

"You will," Jared tells him with a sweet little smile. "Someday you will."

"Yeah, whatever, kid," Jensen says. It sounds kind of watery, but it's good enough. "You won't be bored enough to worry about it tomorrow."

Jared's laugh is ugly this time and in the dark, Jensen can just hardly make out that he's rolling his eyes. "Because everything's gonna be so exciting out there."

"It will be. I set you up real good," says Jensen.

For a long time, Jared is quiet. Reflective. Finally he admits, "I don't want to go."

Jensen chuckles. "Plenty of people in here who would be happy to take your place."

"Well, I wish they could," Jared says petulantly.

"You don't mean that," Jensen tells him.

"You don't know," Jared fires back. He's nowhere near as concerned as Jensen is with keeping the hurt out of his voice. "You never lived out there like I did."

"You're right," Jensen admits. "I didn't. But it won't be like that this time. I told you. You're gonna have a nice place to live, someone looking out for you, a job."

"Me with a job.” Jared huffs. "What do I know about holding down a real job? That's even more terrifying."

"Change is scary," Jensen agrees. "That doesn't mean it's bad."

"Easy for you to say. But me? I'm tired of being scared. All I've ever been is scared. The only place I'm not scared is…" Jared takes Jensen’s arm and pulls it around himself, then snuggles in closer to Jensen’s chest. Jensen lets it happen.

Jared waits a beat, then adds, "I thought about doing something stupid. Hiding drugs in my shit for them to find when they search me tomorrow or something like that. To get more time added to my sentence. That's pretty crazy, huh?"

Jensen stays silent, because he doesn't much like hypocrites, and he's not eager to be one. He had the same idea. He's spent the last few months trying to get Jared ready to live outside, but when it hit him just how soon this was happening, all he could think was how easy it would be to screw Jared over. To keep him just a little bit longer.

"Why didn't you?" he asks, when the silence gets to be as much an admission of guilt as an escape from it. "If you're so eager to stay."

"Because I knew as soon as someone put that poison in my hands, I'd use it." Jared looks at Jensen dead in the eye as a tear slips down his cheek, and he bites his bottom lip. "I couldn't stand the thought of you seeing me like that again."

This is one thing Jensen will never understand about Jared. How anyone can be so open and honest and admit to failures like that out loud. Especially someone who's been kicked around by life the way that Jared has.

Jensen, who was born with a silver spoon up his ass, swallowed every doubt or inadequacy he ever had until they burst out of him with enough force to land him in here. And still, he's the one who can't get the words out while Jared swaps pillow talk with the guy who fucks him in prison as if they're on their goddamn honeymoon.

"I don't do so good out there, Jensen," Jared admits. "I _actually feel safe_ in here. And…happy, I guess? No one out there is gonna protect me like you do. The only other thing that ever made me feel this good—" Jensen sees Jared move his fingers down the length of his arm, tracing track marks that have long faded from view. "I've been clean for so long. Jensen, what if I start using and you aren't there to—?"

Jensen grabs his shoulders and holds them tight enough to bruise, shakes Jared way too hard. "Listen to me, you won't touch that shit. Because if you do, I'll kill you. You hear? I'll get out and first thing I do, I'll kill you."

"I'm not scared of you," Jared replies, pushing Jensen's hands off of him. Then his voice softens, "Please don't take that from me."

Everyone around here is scared of Jensen; Jared, who is scared of everything, isn't.

If he were a better person, Jensen would double down on his threats. Give Jared a reason to be glad to be rid of him. Make the poor kid see that what Jensen has done for him hasn't been a kindness, and he should get out of this hellhole and live his life and meet someone who has the option of being good to him.

But Jensen has come to terms with the person that he is. He wants Jared to keep confusing his protection for something else, even if it means he'll be suffering, hurting for it, when he gets out of here. Jensen wants to be the thing that makes Jared feel safe for a change, even if that means he'll be afraid again soon. At least for one more night. Let him have tonight and let Jared start on something better in the morning.

"I won't hurt you," he promises. "I wouldn't ever hurt you."

"I know that." Jared turns his face away. "But I still might let you down."

"You won't."

"I probably will." Jared laughs through a sob. "Here I am making a whole big scene about leaving and I'll be back in this cell in a week."

"Why are you talking like that?" Jensen asks. "Not like you don't know how to get drugs in here, and you haven’t."

"Yeah, but I've wanted to. So many times." Jared shivers, a wave of something Jensen can't relate to passing over him. "If it weren't for you—"

Jensen indulges himself just a little, lets his fingers brush tears off Jared's cheek. "You did it yourself, kid. I just helped."

"Even if that were true, who's gonna help me out there?" Jared demands. "Who's gonna make me want to be better? My whole life, no one's expected anything from me except to end up with a drug problem and a record, and it’s not like they were wrong. All I know how to do outside is find shit to put in my veins. What if I slip up?"

"What if you do? Lots of people slip up. You'll get back on the wagon. I know you will."

"Not without you," Jared insists. "Can't we do _something_ so I don't have to go? We can say I started a fight or—?"

"You don't need me," Jensen tells him, putting an end to Jared's very bad, very tempting ideas. "I just made you think you did."

"That's bullshit," Jared replies. "You're so fucking full of it tonight."

"You should go back up to your bunk now," Jensen says. "It's getting late and I'm tired."

"Jensen," Jared tries. Jensen pretends not to hear him or see his big, pleading eyes. Instead he turns onto his back, getting comfortable while edging Jared out of the way.

"Yeah, okay. I get it." Jared shifts a little, so Jensen thinks he really is going. Already his hands are itching to reach out and pull Jared back, but he's gotta do what's right here. He has to let Jared go. Force him to, if it comes to that.

Jared's a stubborn sonofabitch, though. He only plays like he's going to leave until Jensen has settled into a new position, and then Jared readjusts himself, curling up with one leg thrown over Jensen's, his cheek resting on Jensen's chest. Like a normal couple. The kid is gonna break his heart before the morning.

"What are you doing?" Jensen asks, incapable of keeping the fondness out of his voice.

"I'll go back up in a minute," Jared tells him, sounding very content with himself.

Jared yawns, and Jensen just accepts that he's going to have to share his cramped little cot tonight. Sure, they’re twisted up and packed like sardines in a can, but Jared’s an alley cat, and it doesn’t matter what position he’s in, if you let him sit still for more than ten seconds, he’s probably already sleeping.

When he's sure the kid's out cold and won't feel it, Jensen holds Jared tighter and listens carefully to the noises he makes. Jared doesn’t snore, but when he sleeps, his breath does make a little whooshing sound that Jensen's never kept him close enough to hear.

That steady rhythm lulls him, and Jensen doesn't quite fall asleep, but he dreams. Of his apartment in the city with the California king and the bathtub big enough even for Jared to fit in. Of showing Jared things he took for granted when he didn't realize not everyone had them. Of waking up to kisses instead of alarms blaring through a cell so small he can almost touch both walls at once. It could be possible, not so long from now. If everything goes right.

Jensen used to know better than to believe in things going right.

They come for Jared at the crack of dawn. The loud metal clang of the cell sliding open is what jolts Jensen out of his haze before even the morning call can. Then a sturdy female hand is tugging Jared away from him, muttering, "Oh, come on, now. You boys know you can't be doing this."

He sees a moment of confusion on Jared's face as he blinks himself out of sleep. A little smile for Jensen when he realizes he's not in his bed, then a frown as he remembers why he's being dragged to his feet.

C.O. Rhodes shakes her head at them as she directs Jared to pick up his things, hurry up, she doesn’t have all day. C.O. Morgan hangs back, looking tired, probably near the end of his shift.

Jared doesn't have much. Everything he's taking with him fits in his arms, and everything he's leaving behind watches him gather his stuff, going through a mental checklist of how many items Jared has left to pick up.

The alarm still hasn't rung when Jared's standing by the guards at the open gate of his and Jensen's cell with a pile of state-issued linens in his arms.

"Can I say goodbye?" he asks.

Rhodes purses her lips and sighs but decides she's feeling generous. She waves her hand in Jensen's direction and tells Jared, "You've got one minute."

Jensen rushes to stand in front of Jared, and that's about all he can do. Even just opening his mouth to say 'goodbye' is gonna end him.

As usual, Jared fills Jensen’s silence. "I'll wait for you."

"Don't make that promise," Jensen replies, shaking his head. Giving up on keeping his voice steady. "I don't want you feeling guilty when—"

"I am, I'm gonna wait," Jared insists. "And I'm gonna stay clean, too. Jensen, I'll make you real proud."

"You already have, kid," Jensen tells him, forcing himself to smile.

Jared nods, and a few seconds pass before he says, "Fuck it, if you won't, I will."

All of the crap Jared just went through the cell gathering falls to the floor as Jared drops it, and Jensen opens his mouth to ask what the hell Jared is doing, so Jared catches him perfectly off-guard. Openmouthed as Jared grabs his face with both hands and pulls him in.

Jensen swore he wouldn't do it, but now he's helpless not to return the kiss. He circles his arms around Jared's middle and pulls his boy in so tight it hurts, and his tongue chases Jared's deep. That's when the alarm starts going off. They both ignore it until again Rhode's hands are squeezing between Jared and Jensen, forcing them apart.

"That's enough of that," Rhodes tells them. "Grab your things and let's go, Padalecki."

Jared half-ignores her, pulling from the kiss but pressing his forehead to Jensen's. "There's plenty more where that came from," he promises. "Just don't make me wait forever, okay?"

Rhodes bends over to pick up Jared's belongings herself and then shoves them into his arms, pushing him out into the hall. "I'd threaten to delay your release," she's saying to Jared as she escorts him away. "But you'd like that, wouldn't you?"

"Yes, ma'am, I sure would," he hears Jared reply, like a good Southern boy talking to his mama. He throws one last look over his shoulder and Jensen, like an idiot, waves.

Jensen gets another few moments undisturbed to watch Jared walk down the hallway, and then he's through the doors and Jensen can't see him anymore.

A tear slips down Jensen's cheek and he wipes at it as quick as he can. Out of the corner of his eye, he catches C.O. Morgan cutting his glance away, pretending he didn't see.

The rest of the inmates are filing out of their cells now, standing at attention as they wait to be sent to breakfast. In the cell opposite from him, a couple of would-be comedians are grinning.

"Hey, looks like the big dog's lost his bitch," Speight says. "I know plenty of pretty bastards around here who'd be happy to replace him. Look at Cohen," he points to his cellmate. "He your type? You can have him for free. I'd love to get this place to myself."

Jensen's hand curls into a fist on instinct, but he doesn't unleash his shitty mood on the first unlucky idiot who happens to piss him off. Instead, he goes back into his cell and punches the wall until his knuckles are split open, raw.

Good behavior means no starting fights. For the first time in over a decade, Jensen actually cares if he gets out of here or not.

______________________________________________________________________

**JARED**

The first time he ever sees Jensen, Jared is on his knees. That's pretty typical, actually, for Jared. He meets lots of people like this. But it does set a certain tone for how he sees Jensen from that point forward.

To Jared, Jensen always seems to be about ten feet tall. Something superhuman, to be worshipped always and, on occasion, feared.

He was a wrathful god the first time Jared saw him.

It happens in a blur. At least, that's what Jared sees. Remembers seeing. Truth is, Jared's not really with it when Jensen finds him, and there's a lot missing when he tries to go back and patch it all together. He doesn't know for sure how much of what he thinks happened actually did, what he imagined, what his mind blew out of proportion.

But there are some things that are crystal clear.

The pain, that's always been something that sticks with Jared. Could never quite get high enough to shake it. He tried to go quietly, tried to make it known that he wouldn't struggle. But roughing him up was half the fun, and by the time he's on the floor, Jared's got a busted lip, can feel his eye starting to bruise, and his ass is raw, probably bleeding. That he remembers.

There's a cock shoved down his throat, another an inch away from his mouth, and the men are taking turns forcing his face in one direction and then the other. There are more inmates gathered around watching, some waiting for their chance, others who already finished on him. He doesn’t pay much attention to those guys. Jared is trying to focus on here, now, being good for the most immediate threat. If he makes it good, maybe, they won't hurt him as much. That works, sometimes.

Jared remembers hearing the sharp bark of a voice, but he doesn't catch what it says exactly. Some kind of demand for an explanation. Jared couldn't give one even if he had the clarity of mind, because it would be awful rude to talk with his mouth full. He just keeps working at the dicks he's sucking and tries to pretend it's nice, that the hand on the back of his head isn't pushing him in so hard he’s starting to feel dizzy from the lack of oxygen.

Then there’s a splash of water in his face, reminding him he's been in the showers this whole time, and Jared falls forward because the guy who had been standing in front of him blocking the spray is suddenly not there to prop him up.

He puts his hands out on the wet tile floor in front of him and pushes himself up just enough to see that there are men on the ground around him, all of them clutching something and making sounds of pain. Jared wonders for a moment if he somehow caused whatever swept through and wiped his attackers out, just by wishing so damn hard for one moment of peace to catch his breath.

Jared looks up and sees what saved him, feels a little like a rabbit that escaped a fox just to find itself face to face with the coyote. There's a hushed sort of awe in Jared because the man standing over him is beautiful the way the angels stained into the windows at Grandma's church used to look, with that same air of stillness and danger lurking as he slowly uncurls his bloody knuckles.

Jensen shouldn't be that intimidating. He's tall, but not nearly as bulky as some of the guys he just laid flat on their asses. He's good-looking, something that's already gotten Jared in a lot of trouble around here, and Jared isn't half as pretty. And yet, there's a sense of satisfaction in Jensen's expression as he quietly observes the scene in front of him that makes Jared feel awful skittish, makes him suspect he was safer with the gang than with this one avenging angel.

It feels like suicide when Jared takes the hand Jensen holds down to him and lets the guy help him to his feet, but Jared does it. It's the only defense mechanism he has. The easier you make it for them, the less they hurt you. Sometimes.

Jared slips trying to stand on his feet and raises his hands immediately to block whatever hit is coming to him for being so clumsy, but instead Jensen's arms catch him around the middle and prop him up with surprising strength. He's holding Jared too close now for Jared to escape, which Jared wouldn't have the balls to try to do anyway, so he’s as still as he can be as he shivers and stares into Jensen's face.

Jensen's eyes are glass green and cut just as deep as they move over Jared, taking note of answers to questions Jared doesn't realize he's asking.

When finally Jensen speaks, it's to mutter, "Jesus." Then he addresses Jared with, "What did you take?"

Jared's not really sure, and he realizes when he tries to say as much that his throat is raw. He coughs instead of making words.

"Alright, forget it. Do you know where your clothes are?"

Jared shakes his head, so Jensen tosses him whatever's closest. "Take one of theirs. Get dressed."

He obeys. Always does. Jared is a good boy.

"Can you pieces of shit hear me?" Jensen asks, addressing the guys still spread out on the ground.

No one answers, so he kicks one hard in the stomach, until the man yells, "Yeah, we hear you. Fucking psycho!"

"None of you ever touch this one again," Jensen says, hitching a thumb at Jared, who's huddled behind him putting on someone else's one-size-fits-all white tee and dark gray pants. "He's mine now. Are we clear?"

A few guys grunt, one or two nod. The smart ones, the ones who seem to be staying on the floor more as a show of surrender than because Jensen actually knocked them out, all make promises and excuses—"of course, he's all yours" and "we were just testing him out for you" and "I didn’t know, it won't happen again."

Jensen nods and as he's turning away, putting an arm around Jared again to help him walk, a guard appears at the entrance to the bathroom with a look of distress on his face.

"Holy shit!" the C.O. says. "What the hell happened in here?"

"They slipped," Jensen tells him, sounding bored. "Remember to write that down when you make your report, McKinney."

The guard looks from Jensen to the destruction left in his wake and then back up at Jensen. "All of them? You think that's gonna be believable." 

"I guess someone dropped the soap," Jensen replies with a nasty smirk. "Don't you worry about it. The warden's got a real trusting way about him. You just let him know that Ackles said they slipped."

McKinney doesn’t seem to like it, but he swallows hard and nods anyway, and Jensen shuffles past him with Jared in tow.

"Who are you?" Jared asks once he's finally able to speak again. "Where are we going?"

"Shh." They pause in the hallway outside the bathroom as Jensen gently moves wet hair that's stuck to Jared's cheek. "You can't talk right now, kid."

"Who?" he asks again.

"I'm Jensen," he says. 

"Jensen. Don't hurt me, Jensen," Jared begs. "Please, I'll be good. Just don't hurt me."

"Not gonna—fuck, man. I'm taking you to see the nurse." Jensen shakes his head, but he tries to smile. "You're gonna be alright. I won't hurt you."

Jared doesn't believe him at first, but Jensen never does.

______________________________________________________________________

**JENSEN**

"You want me to do what?" Chris asks, half laughing as he sits back in his chair and leans away from Jensen. "Is this a joke?"

"He needs a job," Jensen says again. "And a place to live. There's only a couple of months left on his sentence."

"Place to live? Sure. It's your apartment. But a job?" Chris takes off his hat and runs his hand over his hair before putting it back on. "Jensen, I'm not even sure I can afford that. You know The Forte hardly pays for itself. I don't _have_ employees."

"And aren't you always saying how much you lose out on because you have to close the shop if you can't be there?" Jensen asks. "You'll finally have the help you need to start really turning a profit. And you’ll have a little more time off. Alona will like that."

"Oh, yeah, finally. A knowledgeable, _trustworthy_ staff," Chris grumbles. "Your boy know anything about guitars?"

"No," Jensen admits. "But he's a damn quick learner."

Chris sighs and shakes his head, and Jensen leans forward, putting his hands out in a pleading gesture. "Come on, man. All my other connections own bars. I can't put an addict in a bar. Don't make me ask my parents. They'll treat him like scum. Like he's lucky to scrub their toilets. And he’ll…” Jensen pauses to lick his lips. “He’ll believe them, Chris. He’ll think that’s what he deserves. I need him doing something that’ll make him feel proud, you know?”

“Like selling guitars?” Chris asks, quirking an eyebrow. “Inspiring stuff.”

“You care about it, don’t you?” Chris acknowledges Jensen’s point with a nod, and Jensen goes on, “Look, if you can get him interested, you’ll see how he lights up. He remembers stuff like I’ve never seen—real sharp, real enthusiastic. He’ll know everything there is to know about the instruments in the store inside a week. And I know your ass can geek out over a guitar enough to make anyone listen.”

Someone’s kid runs by them screaming. Chris follows the toddler’s path with his eyes until a guard sends the child back to their dad’s table, and then he turns to Jensen. “Babysitting is what you’re asking me to do. When I should be working.”

“Jared’s no baby,” Jensen says. “If you motivate him, push him a little, he’ll be a damn good asset. He’s eager to please. Sometimes, he’s a little too eager to please, but he’ll do anything for a kind word. And he’s not an idiot. He can do math off the top of his head that I never learned in all my schooling. I know you hate that accounting shit. He can help with that.”

Chris flat-out laughs at him. “Let me get a criminal to handle my budget. Have you lost your damn mind in there?”

“You can’t think of him like that,” Jensen says. “If this is gonna work. You can’t just think of him as a criminal.”

"First off, I never agreed to try to make it work. And second, that’s all I know about him at this point, so what else am I supposed to think? What's he in for, anyway?" Jensen feels his lips tighten, but Chris lifts his hands. "Man, it's a fair question. You're asking me to put someone I don't know in my store. Leave him in charge of it when I can’t be there. And to live with him. I should at least get to know what I'm dealing with."

"Possession, this time," Jensen replies.

Chris narrows his eyes. "This time."

"What do you want me to tell you?" Jensen asks. "He's got a record that goes from here to the border. Mostly drug use. Petty theft. Prostitution. Basically, drugs and things desperate people do to get drugs. It doesn't look good. But he's a good kid."

"Now? Sure, I don't doubt that he's pleasant without access to whatever put him wrong the last time." Chris crosses his arms over his chest. "What happens when he starts using again? When he's got the keys to my cash register, my shop? What do I do when he starts pawning guitars for smack? My business is all I've got."

"And you've got it because of me," Jensen says harshly.

Chris sits back, looking stunned, and Jensen immediately wishes, just once, he could keep his damn temper in check.

Jensen wipes a hand over his face. "Look, I'm sorry. That was shitty. But when you wanted to open a music store, who gave you a place to live, rent free, so you could save up for it?"

"Yeah, and remind me who's been taking care of the apartment _and_ all your finances while your ass has been in prison." Chris leans in again, placing a finger on the table between them. "If you want me to find my own place? Fine. Say so. But don't try to hold that shit over me. I'm your friend. In fact, I'm pretty much the only friend you've still got, because I stuck with you when you _killed a guy_ , and I've spent the last ten years defending you. Now you don't get to tell me who I do or don't let work in my store. _I'm_ not your bitch."

"I know, man." Jensen sighs. "I didn't mean it like that. That's just how you gotta think in here. Can't do anyone a favor without strings attached. I've been in here a minute. I forget how to act."

"Damn right you do, son," Chris tells him, with enough of a smile that Jensen knows he's forgiven. "But don't you worry, 'cause I'm not letting that shit fly with me. I'll remind you how to act."

Jensen laughs. "You always did keep me in line. Too bad you weren't around when it counted."

Chris makes a dismissive sound with his mouth. "Like I could've stopped your crazy ass."

"Yeah, you're probably right. I was a lost cause." Jensen sits back and shrugs. "All that money, all those connections, the fancy school, the nice apartment. And I blew it." Jensen drops his eyes to the table. "Jared never got a single break in his whole life. Not like me. Think of all the opportunities I got and he and I still ended up in the same place. Imagine where he could have ended up if someone had given a damn."

"So you're telling me I should give a damn," Chris responds after a heavy moment of silence, the chatter from the other inmates and their visiting families the only thing between them.

"I'm not telling you to do anything. I'm asking you. No, I'm _begging_ you. Give Jared a chance. He deserves a chance." Jensen scratches the back of his neck as he glances at the clock, anxious because visiting hours are nearly up and he still hasn't gotten the 'yes' he needs. "It'll all be on me, okay? If he steals shit from you, use my money to replace it."

“Well, that’s something, at least,” says Chris.

“Yeah, I got another thing. I don’t think it’ll happen but—”

“I’ve got big plans to not like whatever the hell is about to come out of your mouth,” Chris tells him.

“If he starts using—”

“Do I know you or what?” Chris interrupts. “Tell me again about how this isn’t babysitting.”

“Shut up for five minutes.” Jensen looks up sharply and makes sure to hold Chris’s gaze. “Keep an eye out for him. And if he starts acting like...do whatever it takes to help him, okay? Find him a doctor. Find the best doctor. Whatever it takes. Throw everything I’ve got at it. Sell the apartment if you have to.”

“You’ve got money,” Chris mutters. “You don’t have endless money.” They share a short laugh, until Chris says, “Look, Jensen, I feel for the kid, I do. But you’re asking for a lot here.”

Jensen leans in, lowering his voice. “I know. You’re my best friend. You’re the best friend a guy could ever ask for. And he’s…”

Jensen’s instinct is to stop there; it’s not easy for him, letting someone see him this vulnerable, not even Chris. But he can’t let it go. Jared needs this. He won’t make it on his own again. He shouldn’t have to, and Jensen won’t let it happen just because he couldn’t find his voice long enough to say something true.

“He’s the only thing that’s kept me from going crazy. He’s the only peace I’ve had in ten years. This isn’t some chore I’m dumping on you because no one else will do it. You’re the only person I trust enough to ask for something this important. _Please_.”

Chris stares at Jensen like he just started singing Chinese opera, which would probably be about as unexpected to anyone who knows him as what he just said. Finally his friend shakes his head, says, "I can't believe I'm agreeing to this, but alright. Your boyfriend can work for me when he gets out."

"He's not my boyfriend," Jensen replies. Chris rolls his eyes, so Jensen adds, "I'm serious. That's important. He's not my boyfriend. And when he gets out there…you're gonna feel like he should be loyal to me somehow, or like he owes me something. He doesn’t. You can't treat him like he's not allowed to. If he meets someone. I just want him to do what makes him happy, you know? Even if it means."

Jensen's tongue suddenly feels like it weighs ten pounds, like it's desert-dry. That's how it's gonna have to be, if he's ever gonna have Jared on the outside. It can't be like it was here. Jared has to choose him. Didn't get to make a choice when it was either Jensen or every other pervert in the penitentiary.

"Listen to you," Chris says. "You can't even get the words out."

“Doesn’t matter,” he says. “Whether I can say it or not. You get what I’m telling you.”

Chris smirks at him, one of those smiles that always looks too tight, uncomfortable on his face, but which Jensen knows are true. “Damn, son, you’re real gone on this one, huh?”

“It ain’t like that,” he says. “Just want him to have a chance. I blew mine. That money shouldn’t belong to me. I didn’t earn it. Could have been his rich dead uncle instead of mine, and then he never would have landed in here. If I had done what Jared did, my parents would have sent me to a rehab in Mexico where I would have gotten the help I needed, and I’d have come back pretending like it was an extended vacation. Instead, he got dropped in here with scumbags like me who actually belong in prison. I’m trying to put it right in what little way I can.”

“You’re gonna hate me for saying it,” Chris tells him. “But you’re just like your mother sometimes. She still talks about you like you’re doing study abroad. Everyone in Dallas read what you did in the papers, but she thinks if she doesn’t say it out loud, it won’t have happened. You always hated when she did shit like that, but you’re the same. Not calling it what it is isn’t gonna change a damn thing.”

“You can’t understand,” Jensen says. “No one falls in love in prison.”

Chris replies, “Apparently you did.”

“What I’ve done to him isn’t love.” Jensen presses his palms together and pushes down, trying to crush everything he’s feeling. One of those Anger Management tricks he makes fun of week after week, until he catches himself using them. “Poor kid deserves better than what I’ve done.”

“That how he feels about it?” Chris asks.

Jensen lifts an eyebrow. “What?”

“Well, you seem to have decided what is or isn’t good for him. Just curious what he thinks.”

“Jared thinks the softest hit is a caress,” Jensen says. “He doesn’t know anything better. That doesn’t mean it’s good.”

“Seems to me like he should know how to spot bad better than you do.” Chris drums his fingers on the table between them. “And if I had that shitty a lot in life, I wouldn’t much like someone I care about constantly telling me that the one nice thing they’ve given me is rotten.”

For a few moments, Jensen just stares at Chris. Finally he says, “What are you, wise now or some shit?”

“Alona’s really into talking about feelings lately. She thinks it’s important to," Chris does quote fingers, "'Consider all points of view in a conflict before determining your position.'”

“I’ve got so many shrinks in here for you to be starting on that crap now too,” Jensen tells him, shaking his head.

Looking uncharacteristically earnest, Chris replies, “It’s not all crap, though. You oughta think about it.”

The PA system cuts in, announcing that visiting hours are ending, and for once Jensen is fine with seeing his friend go. He’s gotten all the amateur psychoanalyzing he can handle for one day.

Chris stands and points a finger at Jensen before leaving. “I’ll come next week to meet your boy and talk to him about the job.”

“Thanks, man. I’ll make sure he puts you on his list.” Jensen gives Chris a quick pat on the back, knowing it’ll get him scolded. 

A guard steps in, taking hold of Jensen’s arm. “No touching!”

“Hey,” Chris calls out as Jensen is led away. “Think about it!”

Jensen is still rolling his eyes when he’s shoved through the door. He shakes off the guard and only makes it a few steps before he sees Jared down at the end of the hall, leaning against a wall. Waiting for Jensen.

“Don’t you have anything better to do?” Jensen jokes, putting an arm around Jared’s shoulder and tugging the kid along with him.

Jared goes willingly, grinning up at Jensen, happy to stay awkwardly tucked against Jensen’s side, even though Jensen is shorter than him and it takes some bending on Jared’s part. 

“I was bored,” Jared says, and then he holds something shiny up in front of Jensen’s face. “Anyway, if you’re not happy to see me, I guess I’ll just give this to someone else.”

Jensen snatches the candy bar out of his hand, turning it over. “Three Musketeers.”

“Your favorite,” Jared says brightly.

“King size,” Jensen observes. “They don’t sell this size in commissary. Where’d you get it?”

“New guard,” Jared tells him. “The bald one with the name that sounds like a pasta.”

"Pileggi?" He makes sure his voice is even, neutral as he says, “A guard gave you this?”

Jensen has to check himself to keep his fist from curling. If some new guard doesn’t know yet not to mess with Jared, that’ll be a conversation Jensen needs to make sure to have. It always starts with little presents. Before long it’s drugs and quid pro quo where the cameras can’t see.

“Well,” Jared replies, dragging the word out too long, and Jensen instantly relaxes when he sees the mischievous light in Jared’s eyes. “In a way. He gave it to me. In the sense that he left it on a table and turned his back on it.”

Jensen barks out a laugh, half relieved and half delighted, though he tries to look stern as he says, “Dammit, Jared. You can’t be doing that stuff anymore.”

“It was a public service,” Jared tells him solemnly. “Someone has to teach the fresh blood not to leave their shit unattended around a bunch of felons.”

Jensen is still grinning as he tears into the silver wrapping and breaks off the top piece, handing it to Jared. Jared accepts the chocolate from him and immediately pops it into his mouth.

While Jared chews, Jensen says, “Hey, so next week my buddy Chris is gonna come talk to you. You gotta make sure to put him on your visiting list.”

“My visiting list,” Jared replies, licking the chocolate off his fingers. “I’ve never had a visitor before. Why would he want to talk to me?”

“I mentioned you were getting out soon, and he had this idea to give you a job in his music store. I thought it sounded pretty good.”

Jared looks unconvinced. “You tell him I'm an addict?”

"Yeah, and that we dealt with it." Jensen reaches out and rests a hand on the back of Jared's neck. "I told him how good you're getting at managing your cravings. And that you'll be in the program and going to meetings and all that."

"And that I've never been clean out there?" Jared adds. "Or held a real job? Did you tell him all that?"

"I told him everything he needs to know," says Jensen.

"Then why on Earth would he want to hire me?"

Jensen shrugs. “He gets tax breaks for employing someone with a record, so it works out for him. Not gonna pay a ton or anything, but I figured you might be interested.”

“It sounds amazing,” Jared says. “If you really think he means it.”

“Yeah,” Jensen replies. “I’m pretty sure he’s serious about it.”

“Wow!” Jared grins. “That’s really cool.”

Now that it’s all settled, Jensen can go back to pretending he's unconcerned. He glances at Jared out of the corner of his eye and smirks. "I didn't tell him what a pain in the ass you are. Figured I shouldn't ruin all the mystery."

Jared smiles dimple-wide as he shoves Jensen in the chest. "Shut up."

Jensen catches his wrist and stops walking, pulling Jared off to the side.

“What are we doing?” Jared asks as Jensen presses him to the wall of an empty passage. The way he’s watching Jensen promises that he’ll be down for anything, and Jensen wants so much it’s getting hard to keep it all in.

“You missed some,” he says, leaning in to lick a spot of chocolate from the side of Jared’s lips.

When Jensen pulls away, Jared opens his fox-like eyes halfway, smiling softly at Jensen. “That was a kiss.”

“Was not,” Jensen insists, lowering himself to suck at Jared’s skin instead.

Jared moans a little and says, “Next time, I’m going to steal a Hershey’s Kiss for you. And I’m going to give it to you mouth-to-mouth. Like a bird. A really horny bird.”

“We were working on not stealing anymore,” Jensen says, looking up from where he’s buried his face in the crook of Jared’s neck. “Remember?”

“Only when it’s a little present for you,” Jared promises. He tugs Jensen up and turns them both so that Jensen’s the one against the wall, and then Jared drops to his knees. “Did you get me a present, too? You’re not the only one around here who likes putting things in his mouth.”

Jensen laughs as Jared pulls his pants down and gets his cock out, stroking him to hardness. Jared takes Jensen between his lips like he’s been waiting all day for it, and Jensen can’t help wondering if Chris might have been right, if maybe Jared really does like this.

He crooks his neck to smile into the camera pointed at them as he takes a big bite from the chocolate bar and lets his other hand rest lightly in the hair on the back of Jared’s head.

The candy melts in Jensen’s mouth, and Jensen melts in Jared’s.

______________________________________________________________________

**JARED**

They shake him awake in the middle of the night.

It takes Jared a long moment to figure out what's going on. He's used to the alarm by now, but this is something else. He hears Chad in the bunk under him mumbling questions, but one of the guards tells him to shut up and he does as he's told.

Jared's the one they pay attention to. He's afraid at first that it might be the C.O. from the other day here to finish what he started. Once he's on his feet and awake enough to look the guys over, though, he only vaguely recognizes one of them.

C.O. McKinney, who Jared has met two times before, is standing to his left. He gestures at Jared's bunk and says, "Gather your things and let's go."

"Go?" Jared asks. "What time is it? Where am I going?"

"Don't ask questions," says the other guard, a middle-aged dirty blond with patchy facial hair. "Just do what we say."

"Yes, sir," Jared replies, never having to be told twice.

He follows the officers out into the hall, shaking in his shoes because he doesn't know what's coming to him, so he doesn't even know what to brace himself for. They walk him down about ten cells and then they stop.

"Open it," the second guard tells McKinney, who lets go of Jared on the side he was securing as he begins to sort through keys.

As he's working on that, the other guard talks to Jared, "This is your cell now, understood? You report here."

Jared nods. 

Next to him, McKinney has finished unlocking the cell and he glances up at Jared for only a moment, says in a very low voice, "Hell, I'm sorry about this."

Inside the cell, someone sits up, like they've been waiting. It's too dark for Jared to tell who his new cellmate is. All he knows is that this doesn't feel like standard procedure, and that scares the shit out of him.

"What did I do?" Jared asks the guards as they shove him inside, slamming the bars immediately, as if they're feeding Jared to something they're scared will come for them next.

"Easy with the merchandise, Carlson," says a voice from within. "Remember who signs your checks."

Jared has only heard this person speak twice. Both times he was too high to really register much, but he still recognizes the deep drawl. His blood turns to ice as he realizes what's happening.

Time to pay for the protection he's been given these last few days.

"Fuck off," C.O. Carlson replies. He and McKinney scan up and down the hall before they turn to leave, and everything is quiet again, most prisoners still sleeping. Like nothing happened.

Jensen walks forward, within striking distance of Jared, and then stops, looking Jared over. Jared stays very still and hopes the guy will like what he sees.

"Did they hurt you?" Jensen asks.

Jared shakes his head, too terrified to talk.

"Good," he says. "You'll be on the top bunk."

"Really?" Jared places the few belongings in his hands on the bed he's been assigned, hoping a joke will cut the tension. "You seem like a top type of guy to me."

It doesn't work. Jensen sneers at him and turns to sit on his bed with his feet planted on the ground. He looks up at Jared and says, "From now on, you stay close to me. You eat with me. You shower with me. You sleep here. If I'm in the yard? You're by my side. Are we clear?"

"Yes, sir," Jared answers.

"Cut out that 'sir' crap," Jensen demands. “I’m not a C.O.”

"I'm sorry, s—" Jared stops himself and holds his breath, wishing it could somehow make him disappear from view.

Jensen continues, "I'm doing what I can to change your job assignment. For now, you're on your own during work hours. Once that's straightened out, you'll be in AA meetings while I'm in Anger Management, and that's the only time you go far enough that I can't keep an eye on you."

Jared wants to cry, but he chokes it down as much as he can. "I understand."

"Do you?" Jensen watches him for a long minute, then rolls his eyes. "Turn off the waterworks. This is for your own good."

"I appreciate your protection," he replies, trying to keep his words from trembling. 

And Jared means it, kind of. Knows it's better to only have to answer to one master, to only have to take one cock at a time. The problem is that he's lived both nightmares: too many abusers or just one. Jensen's rules, his hand perpetually curled into a fist—this all reminds Jared of the nightmare that raised him.

He drops to all fours, trying to show submission, and makes promises to Jensen's feet. "I'll do anything you ask." Jared raises himself just enough to curl into Jensen's lap, to put his hand on Jensen's crotch. "I'll be very good. Just don't hurt me."

Jensen shoves him away on instinct, and Jared falls back not from the force but from the unexpectedness. He thought Jensen was going to pull him in closer.

Jared cowers on the ground as Jensen rushes to his feet, but Jensen doesn't hit him. He looks angry for a moment before he sighs and turns his back on Jared. "I didn't bring you here to fuck. Don't touch me like that again."

"I'm sorry," Jared replies. He watches Jensen calm, keeps an eye on how his muscles lose their tension and waits until his cellmate is sitting on his bed again before making a move to rise.

Jared takes a step toward the bunk, about to climb up, but he can't help his curiosity. He tries to find Jensen's eyes in the dark. "Why _did_ you bring me here? If not for…that?"

"It's three in the morning," Jensen says. "Go to sleep."

"Just tell me what I'm expected to do," Jared pleads. He can't stand guessing games. Isn't smart enough to win at them. Never seems to manage to avoid whatever mystery action triggers him getting hit. "I don't want to upset you. But I can't be good if I don't know what you want."

"What I want is to go five minutes without walking in on you getting raped," Jensen responds.

"It wasn't like that," Jared says as he gets into his bunk. "The second time. With the guard last week. I agreed to that."

"You can't consent to a guard," Jensen tells him. "He was taking advantage of you and he knew it. Guy's a fucking scumbag. Now be quiet."

Instead Jared stares up at the ceiling and asks, "What happened to him? I haven't seen him since…"

"C.O. Wade?" Jensen laughs. "Well, he's been fired, and once all's said and done, he'll be living in a smaller cell than this."

"Doesn't seem fair," Jared says. "I wanted—"

"You wanted the drugs he gave you," Jensen says, sounding annoyed. He's not wrong, so Jared doesn't correct him. "Sorry to say, you'll have a hard time finding someone willing to give you a fix now. I've made damn sure they all know better."

"How do you make the guards do what you want all the time?" Jared asks. He only knows of one way to gain favor from the staff in a place like this, and Jensen doesn't seem like the kind of guy who swaps BJs for privileges.

He hears a groan from the bed below him. "How do you have so many goddamn questions, kid?"

"I can stop talking, if that's what you want," Jared offers. "I can stop talking forever."

"I want a little peace and quiet when it's three in the morning. Doesn't mean you have to stop talking forever," Jensen replies, actually sounding kind of amused. "You don't have to do anything you don't want to anymore, alright?"

"I don’t get it," Jared tells him honestly.

"That's real sad, man. But what it's not is my problem." Jared hears the creak of someone turning over below him, and Jensen adds, "Now go to sleep."

"I don't have to, right? If I don't want to?" Jared teases. "You just said."

"I made a mistake bringing you here," Jensen replies. Jared hears rustling, and when Jensen speaks again, his voice is muffled, like there's a pillow over his head. "Jesus fuck you talk a lot."

______________________________________________________________________

**JENSEN**

There aren't a whole lot of things that make Jensen feel lucky he's in prison, but this kind of does. He sits across the table from his parents, watches his mother's mouth move as she shares the latest country club drama, and every now and then, he shoots a glance at his father.

Eyes glazed over. Bored with the details of his own life. Not that Jensen blames him, but it's no way to live. Jensen was on the fast track to end up just like him, which makes the murder seem like a good choice, comparatively.

"What else?" his mother asks. "Alan, dear, was there anything else?"

His father startles, like he was sleeping with his eyes open, and it's very obvious he didn't catch a word she said. For a moment, his gaze meets Jensen's and he shares a wry grin. Some people bond with their dads over fishing or baseball games, but Not Listening to Donna Ackles was a cherished tradition in their house.

"I don't know, honey," he says. "Did you tell him about the Smiths?"

"I told him about the Smiths," she says. She pats his thigh, fond of her husband's forgetfulness. Oblivious to the fact that he willfully ignored her for the last forty minutes, and the last forty years before that. Mother never notices things she doesn't want to. Jensen envies her.

"How about the story with that Connell woman?"

"Yes, yes, I talked about Ruth."

"Well, then, there's really just one bit of news left," his father says.

"Oh, how exciting," his mother exclaims, reaching up to fidget with her pearls. "We have the most wonderful news. Your sister is getting married."

Jensen blinks at them for a long moment, trying to understand how he sat through nearly an hour recapping which almost-strangers he grew up around are getting divorced or having babies before anyone thought to mention _oh, by the way, your sister's engaged_.

"Mac?" Jensen asks. "I didn't even know she had a boyfriend."

"That's right," Mother confirms. "She's just gotten engaged to one of the Abel boys. Jake, do you remember him? Not quite as good a family as that Welling you were seeing—oh, I do hope you two can make things up when you—"

"I don't care about his family, Mom. Amell was from a ‘good family.’"

His mother looks around, as if they're in polite society. As if any of the nearby inmates is going to be scandalized that Jensen just spoke that name out loud.

"Jensen, sweetheart," his mother scolds. "That's not really an appropriate conversation to have in public."

Jensen rolls his eyes and turns to his father. "Is she okay? Is he treating her okay?"

"He is," Dad says. "Jake's a fine man. Treats your sister very well. Thanks to you, son. Your sister is happy and she's going to have a nice family."

"Alan, don't praise him." Jensen's mother holds her pearls between her fingers more firmly, rubbing them as she attempts to keep her voice down. Ladylike. She smiles, forced. "We're having so much fun, your sister and I, planning the wedding. They're going to hold it at your grandfather's ranch."

"That sounds nice," Jensen responds. He looks down at the table, can't stop himself from asking, "She didn't want to come tell me herself, huh?"

"Mackenzie is so busy with all the details, you know how these things are," his mother says.

Jensen shakes his head, because he knows the real answer. Mac hasn't come to visit him once in ten years. She's never going to. Won't talk to him once he's out, either. Jensen hasn't heard from his sister since she testified against him. Not that Jensen can blame her. She saw who he really was and she's running scared. Most people would.

There's only one person who's ever seen all of Jensen and not rejected any of him.

"He's such a nice man," Jensen's mother is saying. "He makes her very happy. I know they'll be a wonderful match."

For a moment, Jensen considers telling them that their son has something like that, too. Someone who makes him happy. A sweet, soft boy, nothing like the blue-blooded monsters they raised their sons to be and taught their daughter to love. Jensen's got someone who wouldn't hurt a fly, not even if it hurt him first. Someone who never had two dimes to rub together, but who gives more than all the philanthropists in Dallas.

They wouldn't be glowing with pride like they are about his sister's engagement. His mother, who used to declare 'I have a gay son!' at parties as if Jensen was a particularly exotic centerpiece, would pretend she didn't hear it. His father wouldn't know what to say.

Not from the right kind of family. Not a single framed scrap of paper from an Ivy League in his name. They would think of Jensen's jailbird as an embarrassment. They don't understand that there are more important things when you're rotting behind bars.

Jensen doesn't share his boy with anyone inside; there's no reason to share him with the outside, either. He keeps Jared to himself, holds the name tucked against his chest instead of speaking it out loud.

For another few minutes, he smiles and nods as his mother outlines the minutiae of a wedding he isn't invited to.

"Oh, goodness," she says at a break in her third story about flower arrangements. "Look at the time. We should get going soon. It's a long drive back and the chauffeur is waiting."

Trying not to be too obviously relieved, Jensen says, "That's alright. I really appreciate you guys coming to see me."

His mother smiles warmly and pats his hand. Jensen sees one of the guards step forward to intervene before deciding it's not worth the effort. "Of course, honey. You know, we've been talking to the lawyers about your release. We're just looking forward to putting this whole messy misunderstanding behind us."

Jensen squints at her, wondering what part of him being sent to jail for a murder he very clearly did commit is a misunderstanding in her world. But he lets it go, because if anything isn't worth the effort, it's having a rational conversation about something unpleasant with his mother.

"Right, yeah," he says instead. "Thanks."

"Your brother wanted me to tell you he'll be coming to see you next month, around the holiday."

When the wife and kids are out of town, no doubt. Jensen shakes his head at how predictable people are, even on the outside, where you're supposed to have freewill. Visiting hours get awful crowded around this time of year. Not quite Christmas—the herd thins by Christmas. No one wants to spend their _real_ holidays sitting in a dingy prison visiting room. But lots of relatives who feel awful guilty about not coming the rest of the year swing by on Thanksgiving and pat themselves on the back for being so generous with their time.

Still, at least Josh acknowledges he has a brother, and it's fair not to want to bring your kids to a place like this. Jensen does get that if he wanted to have a close relationship with his family, all he had to do was not kill anybody.

His parents say their goodbyes, but his father hangs back, waiting until his mother is out of earshot before he claps Jensen on the shoulder. "A man protects his family, son. I'm still proud of you."

It's nice to hear. Dad spent ten years questioning whether his gay son could be 'man' enough, but now that Jensen's bashed a guy's brains in, he's proud. Jensen's pretty sure that jacked criteria is part of the problem…but it _is_ nice to hear.

______________________________________________________________________

**JARED**

"You're not counting."

Jared shakes his head and refocuses on Jensen, on the loud clang of metal as Jensen sets the weight back in its catcher. "Sorry," he says. "I got distracted."

Jensen sits up on the bench, laughing softly as he wipes his face with his shirt. He's glistening with sweat—pretty distracting in his own right, but that's not what Jared's hungry for right now, and if it was, Jensen wouldn't give it to him anyway.

"You don't have to spot me if you don't want to," Jensen tells him. "But say no if you're not gonna. I was depending on you to make sure I didn't drop 250 pounds on my face and you were staring off at who-knows-what."

"I'm sorry," Jared says again, digging his fingers into the crook of his elbow before he catches himself doing it. "I didn't mean to…"

He doesn't stop fast enough, and Jensen's always noticing things Jared wishes he wouldn't.

"You're having a craving," Jensen observes. He doesn't ask.

Jared looks away, down at the cracked concrete floor, but he nods as he does it, because there's no use lying. "I can't make myself think about anything else. I did try to pay attention to what you were doing, but…"

"Hey, look at me," Jensen says. He puts his hand under Jared's chin and lifts his face until their eyes meet. "It's okay. You've only been clean a couple of months. This is going to happen. It's normal."

"You're not disappointed?" he asks.

Jensen shakes his head. "I wish you'd told me, though. Can't help you if you don't talk to me about this shit."

"I just didn't want to let you down," Jared admits, rubbing the underside of his arm. "After everything you did to help me."

He watches as Jensen rises to his feet, then looks back at Jared, crooking his neck toward the yard. "Let's go for a walk."

"A walk?" Jared asks, laughing, but following as he does so. "What good is a walk gonna do?"

"It's gonna offer you the best cure for every illness," Jensen replies.

Jared arches an eyebrow. "Sex?"

Jensen laughs, waving a hand at Jared to dismiss his suggestion. "A distraction, wise guy."

"Right, right," Jared replies. "That was gonna be my third guess."

"I'm serious," Jensen tells him. "You should listen to me. I'm almost a doctor."

"You're a great doctor," Jared says, his voice dropping to a whisper. He notices Jensen's expression dims a little, so he insists, "You are. You saved my life."

"I'm not a doctor." Jensen bites his bottom lip and shrugs. "I didn't graduate."

Jared grins at him. "Well, your bedside manner was better than the nurse here, who told me the results of my STD screenings while eating a roast beef sandwich, and that's about all I have to compare it to."

Jensen snorts and steers them out across the yard. "Believe me, if I had had access to that sandwich."

"I was trying to have a nice moment, you know, and thank you for helping me out," Jared tells him. "Quit being a jerk."

"I can only be what I am," Jensen says unapologetically. "How did the check-up go, anyway?"

"I'm all clear, despite the odds," Jared replies, wiggling his eyebrows and shaking his ass at Jensen. "So if that's what was stopping you—"

"Not funny," Jensen says, but he does slap Jared's ass away playfully.

"Are you just not into guys?" he asks. "Because, man, I gotta say, after ten years I'm surprised you can still make the distinction."

"I like guys." Jensen looks out, past the fence, like there's anything worth noticing in the empty field beyond. "I liked guys before I got locked up."

"Well, that only leaves one possibility," Jared says, bowing his head. "I'm hideous to you."

Jensen rolls his eyes and Jared grins, grabbing onto his arm. "I repulse you! You think I'm the Swamp Thing."

"I don't think you're the Swamp Thing," Jensen says, laughing. "And I'm going to stop taking you to movie nights if you keep insisting on only referencing the worst ones."

"Jensen, buddy, we're in prison," says Jared. "They only show us bad movies."

"There are degrees of badness," Jensen insists. "Swamp Thing is an extreme."

"Ah, so you admit it," Jared says. "You hate me because I'm the Swamp Thing."

"I hate you because you're annoying," Jensen replies, smirking. "And because you sometimes smell like the Swamp Thing."

"Look at where you are." Jared gestures at the prison walls behind them. "No one smells like roses."

"That's true," Jensen agrees. He closes his eyes and takes a deep breath, tipping his face toward the sun. "Almost fresh air out here, though." 

Jared looks back at the stark concrete building and then to the high wire fence, which is only a few feet to their right, and smiles. He's never been out this far in the yard—he sticks close to Jensen, even though Jensen has made it clear he only expects Jared to stay within view. The truth is, he likes Jensen's company as much as he needs the protection.

Now, he realizes that they have considerable distance from the sights and noises of the confined world they've been shut into, and out here he could almost believe that they're free. He feels something well up inside him that he doesn't expect, so he isn't prepared to control it when it bursts out of him.

He takes Jensen's hand.

Jensen opens his eyes slowly as he comes to a stop, and he looks Jared directly in the eye before asking, "What are you doing?"

"I don't know," Jared answers honestly, but he doesn't let go. Waits to see if Jensen will. "Are you mad?"

Jared watches Jensen consider the question. Finally, he swallows hard and shakes his head. "'M not mad."

"Should I stop?" Jared asks.

"Yeah, I think so," Jensen says, but when Jared tries to, Jensen holds on. "But don't."

"It doesn't count out here, does it?" Jared asks. "We're practically free."

Jensen does something then that Jared hasn't ever seen him do before: he smiles. Not a smirk or a laugh or a slight, sarcastic tilt to his lips. Jensen isn't much of a talker, but he's a little more open when the lights are out and they're lying in their bunks. Jared has suspected that he's heard a handful of true smiles in Jensen's tone by night. But this is broad daylight. Jensen suddenly opens up, teeth showing and everything, bright. Happy, even if only for a second.

Then he presses Jared's back to the fence and puts the hand that isn't still wrapped up in Jared's on his cheek. They kiss. Jensen tilts his mouth forward but waits for Jared to decide whether to initiate it or not, and Jared doesn't hesitate. He hasn't had a lot of kisses in his life that didn't feel dirty, but he opens to this one because he wants to. It's not just a kiss as far as Jared's concerned. It's the first time in his whole life he's brushed up against freedom.

It doesn't go on very long before Jensen pulls back and says, "That was a mistake."

"No, it wasn't," Jared insists, trying to drag him in. "Jensen, please."

Jensen shoves Jared's hands down, reminding him who between them calls the shots with just that small display of strength. Then he looks away and starts walking, faster than they had been before, back to where they came from. Like it's dangerous out here instead of beautiful.

"What do you think they're making for dinner tonight?" Jensen asks.

The shift in his entire demeanor is too obvious for Jared to ignore, but Jared is too much a coward to push back against it.

"I don't really care," he says, deflated.

"I'm starving," Jensen continues. "Aren't you starving?"

He gives Jared an almost pleading look, and Jared sighs, but he decides to go along with it. "Yeah, Jensen. I'm really hungry."

"Maybe we can grab something from commissary to tide ourselves over. Would you like that? You can get whatever you want."

Jared takes the apology for what it is and pretends to be excited. He knows most of the guys here would kill for connections like Jensen's, for a friend who can afford and is willing to share all the small luxuries they're allowed. Right now, Jared would trade every creature comfort inside these walls for five more minutes with the Jensen he caught a glimpse of outside.

______________________________________________________________________

**JENSEN**

Jensen is pacing the cell like a caged lion. He knows he shouldn't feel so antsy. Over a decade he's been living in close quarters. He got used to it a long, long time ago. But something about being in the open with Jared today, those seconds when their mouths touched, is fucking with him in the worst way.

He doesn't let himself glance at the too-big body artfully folded into a too-small bed in the corner, but after a couple of months having Jared always at his side, Jensen is starting to feel the kid's presence like a phantom limb. He can't ever forget that Jared is there and that Jared is beautiful. Jensen cured Jared's craving, but now he's got one of his own.

"Did you steal that from work?" he asks before turning his back, walking the length of the cell for what must be the thousandth time tonight.

When he faces the bunk again, Jared is holding the book out in front of him, observing it like he doesn’t know how it got into his hands. "Oh, huh, look at that. I guess I did."

"Why?" Jensen snaps. "You could have just checked it out."

"Turns out I'm a criminal," says Jared, grinning.

"Stupid risk," Jensen tells him. Really, he's glad to see Jared making an effort, taking a book for fun. He should be encouraging it while gently reminding Jared to do it above board, so he doesn't get a strike on his record. But, god, Jensen is raring for a fight and if he doesn't get it out as a few shitty comments, he'll do something worse.

"I thought you'd be proud I was trying it on my own," Jared replies, his expression dimming.

Jensen sighs. He counts back from ten. Tries to remember if there's an Anger Management trick for dealing with wanting to fuck your cellmate. There isn't, he's pretty sure.

Finally, he pauses in front of the bunk before turning to do another lap and says, "What are you reading, anyway?"

"The good book," Jared says, showing Jensen his contraband Bible. "It's…not very good, though."

"Yeah, I could have told you that," Jensen replies. "Why of all the books in the library did you choose to take a Bible?"

"My grandma used to read it to me," Jared says softly. "When she was alive. She died when I was real little, but I think she might have liked me."

Jensen opens his mouth to make a joke about the way Jared phrased it, but he catches himself. Realizes Jared said it like a kid showing off his first 'A'. Like it's really something he's proud of. Like even a grandmother's fondness isn't something he could ever take for granted, and, okay, Jensen's family isn't perfect, but sometimes Jared will do or say something so sad Jensen can't fathom it, and he says it like he doesn't even realize it's unusual.

When Jensen doesn't respond, Jared shrugs, looking self-conscious. "I didn't know where else to start."

"I'm sorry, Jared," Jensen says. "I didn't mean to imply—you can read whatever you want. I'm glad you're practicing."

"Maybe you can give me something better," he says. "You know all kinds of books, right?"

"Yeah," Jensen agrees. "Yeah, I'll remember to do that at work tomorrow. We'll get you a real good list going."

Jared smiles wide and sets the book aside on the bed next to him, looking at Jensen with that expression he's been wearing since the detox, like Jensen hung the damn moon. It's hard enough to ignore at the best of times.

He's still and quiet, observing Jensen closely, and Jensen finally stops his anxious movements.

"What?" he asks when the weight of Jared's gaze gets to be too heavy for Jensen to lift. "What are you staring at?"

"I had a nice day today," Jared says.

Jensen licks his lips, recalling how soft Jared's had been against them. "Me too."

Jared drops down from his bunk and starts advancing on Jensen slowly, like he's trying not to spook him.

He takes one step back for every step Jared takes forward, so it's only a few moments before he finds himself backed into the wall. They both know that if he wanted to, he could put a stop to this. One quick move, and Jared would never touch him again. Jensen understands Jared by now. It wouldn't take much to shake him, because Jared is using every ounce of courage he never had just to make the approach.

It's not Jensen's body that's too weak to resist this. It's the warmth of Jared's hand, and how those long fingers slide into his pants, and it's the fact that Jensen hasn't felt a kind touch in ten years, and has never had anyone perfect draw close to him and look like he's lucky to be breathing Jensen's air.

"Please," Jensen says. He doesn't know if he's asking Jared to stop or keep going. He just knows he'll ruin everything they've built these last few months if Jared gets it wrong.

Jared grips his cock and starts to work at him, slow, methodical. For all the glaring gaps in Jared's knowledge, he has this down to a science. Jensen's dick is hard in Jared's fist in less than a minute.

"This what you want?" Jared asks. He ducks his head, trying to catch Jensen's lips, but Jensen turns his face away.

Jensen remembers the intoxicating serenity that passed through him earlier, knows how easy it would be to get used to. He at least manages to get a hold of himself in time to stop that. Jared's sentence is a wink of an eye compared to Jensen's. He'll be out of here in a year. Jensen can't get dependent on him. He's already let this go far enough. "No kissing."

"Okay," Jared agrees, letting his lips skim the shell of Jensen's ear instead. He keeps working his hand on Jensen's shaft. "Whatever you want. Anything you want."

Jensen is aware that this is different for Jared than it is for him. To Jensen, it's a blessing. Release he's needed longer than he can stand to remember. For Jared it's just survival. Just the instinct to please Jensen, to stay on his good side. And those words, whispered so gently, _anything you want_ , only drive it home. He could have pretended Jared wanted this, too, if not for that.

It stings. Jensen wouldn't ever say so out loud, but it's okay to admit it to himself. Jared just reminded him of something painful that he never should have lost sight of. This is just a transaction. All of it. Jared's affection is a reflection of what Jared thinks he wants to see. And Jensen was doing such a good job not encouraging that thinking, but now?

Now, they've backed into something Jensen knows they won't be able to get away from. Not until Jared's home free. It's not fair, it's not Jensen's fault. His problem is control, and Jared pushed his limit. Jensen never dropped a bag of heroin in Jared's lap and asked him not to shoot it.

So Jensen flips, whatever last trace of humanity had been in him, keeping him from hurting Jared, it's gone. He grabs Jared's wrist and pulls it off his dick, and then he pushes Jared's chest to the wall.

"Can I—? Are you—?" he asks as he shoves Jared's pants down and out of his way.

"Yeah, Jensen," Jared says, resting his face against rough stone. "I already—"

Jensen is inside of him before Jared's even finished answering. Jared scrambles where he's pinned, trying to find something to hold on to, and Jensen grabs his hip to steady them both as he fucks into Jared's ass.

Now there's two addicts in their cell, and Jared is Jensen's fix.

______________________________________________________________________

**JARED**

His friends don't talk to him much these days.

In the time since Jensen took him in, Jared has been pretty distracted. Withdrawal kept him busy those first few weeks, so if anyone did try to engage, Jared was probably too out of it. After that, he's been wrapped up in Jensen, and, truth be told, he probably never would have noticed if not for the four hours each week they spend apart.

"Can you talk about what you learned from your experience, Mr. Murray?" the group leader asks.

"Please, Mr. Murray is so formal. Call me Chad," says Jared's former cellmate, who adds an elaborate eyebrow dance that does not seem to have the intended effect on Ms. Tapping. "Or you can call me anything you like."

She gives him a flat look and repeats her question. "What did you learn, inmate?"

"I guess now that I'm sober, I have a much clearer perspective on the mistakes I made that brought me here," Chad replies, hanging his head. Ms. Tapping nods encouragingly, which she probably regrets when Chad goes on to say, "Yes, indeed. Alcohol abuse definitely sent me down the wrong path, but now that I've learned the error of my ways, I won't drink the next time I rob a gas station, so I'm way less likely to get caught."

The group laughs, except for Ms. Tapping, who sighs and rubs at her eyes like she's got a headache coming on. "On that note, let's just…break for the night."

As soon as the meeting is dismissed, everyone is on their feet, half rushing to the door and the other half flocking to the table at the back of the room, where Ms. Tapping has set up cookies and punch in an endearing attempt to make this feel less like something court-mandated and more like a supportive community.

Jared finds himself standing next to Chad, and he smiles, because they had gotten along pretty well back when they were sharing a bunk, even if Chad was kind of…a lot.

"Hey," he says. "How's it going?"

Chad glances over at him briefly, then looks away, like he didn't hear or see a thing. That's when Jared starts to put it together. Chad hasn't acknowledged him once since they pulled Jared out of his cell at three in the morning. No one has.

Granted, Jared hadn't been here long when it happened, and there weren't many people he'd interacted with that hadn't been out to fuck him, so it's not like Jared lost out on a lot of great friends. But it still kind of sucks once he puts it together.

"Are you mad at me for something?" Jared asks.

Pouring himself a cup of punch, Chad leans in and whispers, "Do you have permission to talk to me?"

"Permission?" Jared repeats. "Dude, I get that things aren't exactly lax around here, but the guards aren't gonna care if we talk."

"Not the guards," Chad replies. The playful attitude he'd had during the meeting is gone, and for the first time since Jared's known him, he seems to be completely serious. "That friggin' lunatic you're bunking with these days. Man, I like you and all, but I do not need it getting back to him that I was, like, talking to his bitch or whatever. That is one shitlist I do not want to be on."

"Jensen?" Jared asks, feeling his eyebrows draw together. "Why would Jensen care if we talk?"

"I don't know," Chad says, lifting his hands defensively. "All I know is I'm not trying to get stabbed in my sleep."

Jared laughs. "I'm pretty sure you'll be in the clear. I've shared a cell with him for months now, and I'm fine."

"Last guy wasn't so lucky," Chad responds. "Not sure how you do it. I couldn't sleep five minutes knowing he was just a few feet away. Not for all the Cheetos in the commissary."

"I don't know what you're talking about," Jared says. "He's a little aloof, I know, but when you get to know him, he's really not bad."

"Your boy's a cold-ass killer is what I'm talking about," Chad tells him.

Jared shakes his head. "No, you've got it wrong. Jensen had a good reason to—"

"He give you the same sob story he gave the judge?" Chad laughs. "Dude kills a guy and manages to lawyer himself into minimum security. What about the second time?"

Jared has lost his interest in the small plate of cookies he'd put together, so he sets it down on the table as he crosses his arms over his chest. "What second time?"

"Ackles killed his last cellmate. That's why they had him bunking alone until you came along. Of course, they couldn't pin it on him. They never found the weapon and the guard on duty that night messed up his patrol." Chad makes a dismissive sound. "Everyone knows who owns half the guards in this place. Anyway, he hated the guy and the last warden wouldn't listen to his requests to change cells, so one night he slashes the man's throat."

"No," Jared insists. "Jensen wouldn't do that."

"Why do you think everyone steers clear of him?" Chad asks. "It's not because he's so pretty to look at."

Jared swallows hard as he feels a sick turn to his stomach. He’s seen Jensen in a fight; there's no pretending he doesn't enjoy it. It's no stretch to believe he's capable of what Chad's accusing.

"It was a little before my time, but everyone knows about it." Chad shrugs. "We don't have many murderers in here. Certainly don't have many who repeat the offence while already doing time _and get away with it_." 

But Jared still isn't fully convinced, so he rolls his eyes. "If everyone knows about it, then why is this the first I've heard?"

"Who's gonna be stupid enough to tell you anything he doesn't want you knowing?" Chad pauses to think for a moment before going a little pale. "Oh, fuck. Me. I am that stupid. Look. I gotta go. Don't tell him I told you, and forget we had this conversation."

Jared watches him take off before he can ask any more questions. He doesn't know what to do except grab the plate with the extra cookies he'd picked out for Jensen and carry them out, hand trembling as he goes.

______________________________________________________________________

**JENSEN**

Jared looks oddly like a kid on the first day of kindergarten the way he's slumped over the little library table with his feet crossed under, sitting on his hands, watching Jensen for direction.

Jensen drops a manual in front of him and Jared looks down at it, then back up at Jensen like he's not sure where to go from here.

"Read it," Jensen says. "It's short. Outlines all our duties here. I'm going to shelve these books and by the time I get back, you should be done with it."

He turns toward the cart, about to leave, but behind him he hears Jared say, "There's been a mistake."

When Jensen turns, Jared hasn't moved to open the booklet Jensen gave him.

"I should be on janitorial duty, like I was before," Jared tells him. "But they told me to come here when I tried to report."

"You work here now," Jensen says. "I told you I was gonna get you transferred as soon as I could."

"I can't work here," Jared says. "I don't know what to do."

Jared's a weird one so far. He's only been sober for a few weeks, and in the time since he's become lucid, he's alternated between making random, brilliant observations and moments like this where he seems almost painfully simple.

"That's what the manual is for," Jensen says, speaking slowly. "So you can learn what to do."

"I'll be bad at it," Jared insists. "I was okay to scrub toilets."

Jensen laughs him off and returns to stacking books on the cart. "Relax, man. This job is as laidback as it gets. The librarian does all the real work. Half the time, I just sit around reading. If you use the downtime to study, you could get your GED in the time left on your sentence."

"Jensen, I think you've got me all wrong. Just because I'm not using doesn't mean I'm suddenly gonna…" Jared laughs shakily. "I wasn't worth anything before I was an addict, either."

"C'mon, that's no way to think," says Jensen. "I've helped lots of guys get GEDs while they were in here, and you'll be able to spend most of your work hours on it. But first you gotta read that manual, and I've gotta earn our eighty-four cents an hour by shelving these books."

Jensen returns twenty-five minutes later to find that Jared is on page two, about a third of the way down, judging by where his finger's resting. He sighs as he drops into the cheap plastic chair across from Jared and is about to reprimand him for slacking off when he catches a glimpse of Jared's face, which is ducked, hidden behind a curtain of long brown hair.

His mouth is moving slowly as he slides his finger from word to word, and Jensen gets it then. His niece used to use the same trick to sound out hard words. She was in the second grade when Jensen was still in her life.

"You can't read," he says. "That's why you were worried about working here. You don't know how to read."

Jared flinches, then raises his head just enough to give Jensen the first defiant look he's ever seen the kid make. "I can too read," he insists. "And I can write my name and stuff. Enough to get by."

"Not enough to get through that manual on your own," Jensen guesses.

He watches Jared's cheeks turn pink as he cuts his eyes away and shrugs. "Never really seemed all that important."

"Of course it's important," Jensen says as he reflects on how many things a person could get screwed on if they're depending on an overworked, underpaid public defender to explain every charge spelled out against them, all the recorded evidence, the possible sentences for their plea. Things Jensen was able to contest for himself, even if he hadn't had a team of expensive attorneys steering his defense. He never thought about what it would be like to go through a sentencing without at least that tiny bit of dignity to hold on to.

And the thing is, Jensen's seen plenty of guys Jared's age filter through here not knowing how to read. He's helped a few of them learn. He's had just as many get too frustrated, throw the book, stomp out and never come back. It shouldn't be that surprising, knowing what little he knows about Jared's situation. But all those other guys were just strangers sitting across the table. Jensen never cared. He's done some good work here on making sure he doesn't care. It was working, 'til Jared. Jensen caught Jared like a cold he can’t get better from.

The answer is already obvious, but Jensen can't stop himself from confirming. "Didn’t you plea guilty? Could you even read the complaint?"

"Fuck no." Jared laughs. "That thing had really big words in it. I just did what my lawyer told me."

"You signed away your rights." Jensen frowns. "Without even knowing what they were."

"What does it matter?" Jared asks. "I _was_ guilty."

"That's not the point," Jensen says.

"What is the point? I was more concerned about not having access to drugs than I was about being charged. I'm not the victim you think I am." Jared moves to hide his hands under the table, probably because they're starting to shake. "I don't know why you're wasting all this time on me, but I'm not going to get a GED and kick my habit and leave this place a success story, or whatever you're aiming for. I've been in and out of jail about a thousand times. I serve my time, I leave, I fuck around and fuck up, I come back. It's what I do. That's all I am, Jensen. I don’t have a big secret that you'll find if you just look hard enough."

There's no reality where Jensen is going to argue with Jared, or risk saying something soft. Instead he shrugs and says, "Well, you're stuck in here with me anyway, so we might as well see what we can do to pass the time."

It's not quite starting from scratch, so Jared does push past some hurdles that other inmates Jensen's tried to teach to read have fallen down on. Jared was right that thinking he'll be at a high school graduate's reading and writing level before he gets out would be a stretch, so Jensen mostly puts aside the GED training materials and focuses on building a little enthusiasm for the written word.

Despite his defeatist attitude, Jared proves a capable student. The first time Jared does a practice test, Jensen has to read him the instructions, but when he checks Jared’s results, he's surprised to find that Jared could take the test that day and pass the math section with flying colors.

Jensen does his best not to notice the way Jared lights up if Jensen praises his progress. Tries not to think things like _adorable_ when Jared finally moves up to chaptered kid's books and starts getting into what he reads. Ten years it was easy not to get invested, and now he can't make it a week without sinking deeper.

"I still don't trust that Snape asshole, though," Jared tells him as he hands Jensen a stack of books for Jensen to slot into the shelf in front of them. "Maybe he wasn't Voldemort, but the motherfucker is shady. I'm thinking he’s a vampire."

Jensen laughs at Jared's off-color Harry Potter book report just as some big sonofabitch walking up the aisle pushes past them, shoving Jared forward hard enough that the book cart is driven into his stomach.

At the level Jared had heroin built up in his system before he got busted, and with the skeevy guards sneaking him occasional fixes the first few weeks, withdrawal took longer than usual to pass, and, even now, Jared has had some lingering symptoms. Jensen knows he's still getting shakes, still sleeping more than normal, and he's willing to bet from the look of agony that passes over Jared's face at the impact that Jared's been dealing with some stomachaches he didn't bother to tell Jensen about.

So Jensen gets a little more heated than he usually would, which is already considerably more than the average person. He waits until exactly the right moment, just as the guy smirks and tries to pass by him, and then he strikes like a cobra. One good punch. The force of the man's considerable mass slammed against the bookshelf at Jensen's back.

Jensen recognizes Ty Olsson once he has the man on the floor with his foot pressing the guy's throat.

"What the hell!" Olsson yells as he goes down, at the same time Jared's catching his breath to say, "Jensen, stop!"

Jensen can't stop. Even when he wants to, Jensen can't stop. No one ever gets that.

"The hell is your problem?" Olsson asks.

"Apologize," Jensen says. "Or I'll make you sorry."

"Let him go," Jared demands, stepping forward to pull Jensen's arm and try to tug him away. "Jensen, stop it."

"Not until he learns some manners." Jensen shakes Jared off easy and turns his attention back to the ground. "What do you say, asshole? You learn anything about not being a total dick?"

"Yeah," Olsson says. "Look, I thought you'd be amused, alright? He's just a bitch, fuck. Not like I pushed _you_."

Jensen applies more pressure, says, "Apologize."

"I'm sorry!" Olsson rasps under his foot. "I won't do it again. Promise."

"I'm serious," Jared insists. "Let him up. It wasn't that big a deal."

"It _was_ a big deal," Jensen snaps, glaring at Jared. "You need to stop letting people treat you like that."

"Please," Jared says, and when his eyes meet Jensen's, Jensen realizes Jared's not just being a pushover. He's more upset by what Jensen's doing than he was by the bump, and asking Jensen to stop is actually some form of bravery.

Where ten years of Anger Management classes have failed, Jared's wet puppy eyes somehow manage to get through. Jensen doesn't usually start a fight without leaving some kind of mark, but he steps back now, taking his foot off the asshole's neck and placing it square on the floor by his face.

"You're lucky my boy doesn't wanna see your face kicked in as much as I want to do it," Jensen tells Olsson. He spits on the guy, just to make his point and as he watches the inmate scramble to his feet, he says, "Now get out of my library and don't you come back here."

"Ah, come on," Olsson says, rubbing at his throat. "It's my girl's birthday next week. I was gonna find her a poem or some shit."

"Should have thought of that before," Jensen tells him. "Get out of here. You're pushing your luck."

Apparently, the guy isn't a complete moron. Jensen watches him leave like there’s a fire on his ass before he turns his attention back to Jared.

"Are you okay?" he asks, trying to reach out to lift Jared's shirt, just to check for bruising.

Jared cringes away from Jensen's touch before making a visible effort to stay still, and Jensen hates that he cares enough that a little thing like that could be so upsetting.

"I scared you," he says, his voice hushed. "I'm sorry. I was trying to help."

"I know you were," Jared replies, but it's all wrong now. He sounds like he did the first few days Jensen knew him, before his detox, when he was walking on eggshells trying not to upset Jensen and offering all kinds of tricks so that Jensen wouldn’t take them by force.

"I wouldn't do that to you," Jensen promises. "I won't hurt you. But you can't just expect me to stand by and let someone else."

"I'm used to it," Jared says.

"I don't get that." Jensen picks up the books that fell when Olsson collided with the shelf and gets back to work. "You know, Jared, at your size, it wouldn't take much to keep the guys here from fucking with you. You just need to know how to handle yourself a little. I could teach you a few things, enough to—"

"No!" Jared shakes his head emphatically. "I don't want to do that. I don’t want to learn how to hurt people."

"But they hurt you," Jensen tells him. "All the time. I can't be with you 24/7. Don't you at least want to—?"

"If they hurt me, so be it," says Jared. "I won’t be like…"

"Me," Jensen finishes for him.

"It's not that I don't appreciate you looking out for me, okay? It's just…" Jared bites his bottom lip. "I don't like fighting."

Jensen's hand makes a fist, even though it's exactly the wrong thing to do. He watches Jared brace for a hit, just like he knew Jared would, but he can't stop himself. He turns at the end of the aisle they're in and punches the heavy wooden shelf a few times to try to get some of the rage out. His hits have no effect except a throbbing pain in Jensen's right hand, which is good. Jensen actually cares about this place, doesn't want to wreck the furniture. God only knows how long it would stay broken.

When he's done, he makes a frustrated sound and presses his forehead to the shelf, closing his eyes as he takes deep breaths and tries to get a grip. To his surprise, he feels a hand on his shoulder after a few moments, tentative at first, but when Jensen lifts his head to look at Jared, Jared apparently doesn't see enough to scare him away, because he wraps his arms around Jensen from behind.

"What did I say?" Jared asks. "To make you angry?"

"Not angry at you," Jensen replies. He takes a deep breath and turns to face Jared head-on. "You don't belong here."

Jared's expression is confused, but he laughs a little, trying to reassure Jensen. "Of course I do."

Jensen shakes his head, but he doesn't know how to explain it to Jared. Someone who thinks he has so little worth, who won't even throw a punch in self-defense. Jared is passive all the way through and he's been locked in this powder keg with loose sparks like Jensen. It ain't right.

"I killed somebody," Jensen tells him.

To his credit, Jared doesn’t recoil this time. Jensen feels him tremble a little, but he even keeps his face neutral as he says, "That came out of nowhere a little bit."

Jensen presses his palms to his eyes. "I took a life, Jared. You've never hurt anybody, have you? Not once?"

"I've done plenty of other things I'm not too proud of," Jared says. "I've stolen a lot. That’s not exactly a victimless crime."

"But you aren't like the rest of us." Jensen lowers his hands and looks at Jared. "Toxic. Me? I know I'm scum. I'm supposed to be here."

"Why'd you do it?" He gives Jared a questioning look, because that's a pretty damn bold thing to ask, knowing Jared. Jared must realize it as soon as he's finished the question, because he walks it back a little. "If you don't mind telling me."

Jensen considers it for a long time. He hasn't brought it up willingly since…well, ever. Aside from telling his side to the judge, Jensen only talks about it when the counselors start prying. It's not like it's something he's ashamed of or doesn't like thinking about—in fact, Jensen cherishes the memory a little more than he's ever admitted out loud. It's just never been very helpful to dwell. What happened happened.

But Jared looks genuinely concerned, and Jensen wishes he could take the whole confession back.

"My sister had a boyfriend," he says. "Real piece of shit. He thought he was some hotshot lawyer, but the truth is his daddy gave him a job way above what he could handle. He'd get his ass handed to him in court all week, then come home angry. So he drank and then he'd treat her like a punching bag. I lost track of how many times she called me crying. I was doing med school in Austin, and I'd have to drop everything to drive back to Dallas to pick her up. It was the same thing over and over. She would come live with me for a few weeks, and then Stephen would start calling again, saying he's so sorry. Sending presents. He was charming and she was in love. She kept going back to him no matter what I said."

"So you made it stop," Jared guesses.

Jensen shrugs. "It was just going to keep happening. Forever. My baby sister, Jared. He was hurting my little sister. I was into kickboxing at the time, and I don't just mean I took classes for fun. I was a champ. Always been good at hurting people. Could have done it professionally, but my parents would have flipped, so I stuck to the doctor thing. Point is: I couldn't keep following the script when I knew I could end it instead."

For a long time, Jared is quiet, and Jensen feels more anxious waiting for his response than he had waiting for the judge to determine his actual punishment. If Jared hates him now that he knows, it's going to hit him like a death sentence.

Finally, Jared says, "I knew a guy like that."

"Imagine you've known a lot of them," Jensen responds, counting himself.

"Yeah, I guess." Jared starts to push his thumb into the crook of his elbow, and Jensen knows what's behind that tick, that he's trying to recreate the prick of a needle. He usually calls Jared's attention to it, but Jared looks haunted, and Jensen suspects that he needs every little bit of comfort he can muster right now. "When I was little, my mom married this guy. I hardly remember what it was like before him. I'm sure it wasn't all that great, but it got so bad so fast once Fred came along. He was real mean."

"A drinker?" Jensen asks.

"Sure, but…" Jared gives a shaky laugh. "He didn't have to be drunk. Didn't have to be angry. It was worse when he was, but when he was happy, he'd hit like he was playing a game. When it started, it was just mom. She tried to protect me the first few times he turned it on me, but after a while it was like she disappeared. I mean, she was there and she'd cook and clean and go to work, but there was nothing left in her. She'd just stare at the wall. When he was hitting her, when he was hitting me. Didn't matter. She didn't say a thing. And I…I would try to hide. Try to be good. Sometimes the more I tried, the more it pissed him off. I never knew what was gonna get me in trouble until…"

Jensen pushes down his first instinct, because it's utterly unhelpful. All he wants to do is find out if that bastard is still alive, if Jensen could still have the pleasure of tearing him to pieces with his bare hands. That's the last thing in the world Jared needs to hear. 

By now, Jared is digging into the punctures on his arm, about to draw blood, and instead of making threats or punching inanimate objects, Jensen tries to imagine what a gentler man might do. He takes Jared's hands in his own, squeezing them so Jared knows he's there for him. "You don't have to talk about this if—"

"I wish I was like you," Jared says, and Jensen realizes he's crying. "If I had been brave like you the first time he hit Momma, maybe I wouldn't have grown up so damn scared."

"You were just a kid," Jensen says. "You couldn't have stopped him."

To his surprise, Jared hugs him, pressing his face to Jensen's chest. "I couldn't stop him. I couldn't ever stop him. I never even tried. Always such a damn coward. I just didn't wanna hurt anymore. I couldn't understand why he hurt me."

"Jared," Jensen says, putting a hand in the kid's hair and trying to sooth him. "It's okay. I've got you."

"It's not okay," Jared tells him. He angles his head so that he's looking up at Jensen, but he stays huddled in Jensen's arms. "It's never gonna be. When you grow up scared like that, it doesn't matter how big you get. It still lives with me. There's nowhere I can go it doesn't follow. I'm always gonna be so scared. And I just want it to stop."

For all his sins, Jensen's never understood the concept of shooting something nasty into your veins for a thrill. Drugs have been a puzzle not worth unraveling in Jensen's mind. Putting himself in Jared's shoes, he now understands how it could seem like a godsend. To lose that paralyzing terror, even just for a few minutes at a time. Jensen wishes he could shield Jared somehow, and instead, all he's done is be one more bad guy to keep those memories fresh.

So he does what he can. Holds Jared to his chest until the shaking and tears have run their course, and when Jared has calmed, Jensen puts a finger under his chin and lifts Jared's face so that their eyes meet.

Jared sniffs, wipes at the saltwater on his cheeks, and smiles. "You called me your boy earlier," he says, obviously trying to drum up a change in subject. "Am I your boy now?"

Jensen can't go down that path, so he decides to fall back on an old conversation instead of jumping into the new one. "Hey, tell me why you think Snape is a vampire."

______________________________________________________________________

**JARED**

"It's no fun to get my ass kicked when you won't even do me the courtesy of acting like you're trying." Jensen sighs as he gestures at the chessboard. "Pretty sure you won again."

Jared doesn't say anything, and when Jensen reaches out across the table, shaking his hand to try to get his attention, Jared jumps in his seat, pulling away from the touch immediately. 

That makes Jensen frown. Jared wants to kick himself, because upsetting Jensen is the opposite of what he was trying for. He’d been doing an okay job so far, putting on a brave face.

 _Jensen won't hurt you_ , he tells himself, repeating it in his head like a prayer. _Jensen wouldn't ever hurt you._

"What’s up with you tonight?" Jensen asks. "Why are you acting like…?"

"I'm fine," Jared says, scrambling to reset the pieces on the board. "I'm great. Do you want to play again? We can play again. I’ll let you win this time. Anything you want."

"You're scared," Jensen observes, sitting back to get a better view of Jared. 

"I always am," Jared says, trying to play off his anxiousness. He stops sorting game pieces to meet Jensen’s eyes. "You know why."

Jensen clucks his tongue, then says, "You're scared _of me_."

"You?" Jared replies, wishing his sweatshirt had front pockets to tuck his hands into. He pulls his arms through the sleeves and hugs his chest instead, but the movement is awkward and there’s no way it didn’t draw Jensen’s attention. "Well, you're a scary guy."

Across the room, the television is set to some program about African wildlife, and for the most awkward half-minute of Jared's life, they both sit quietly, staring at each other while some stuffy British guy narrates the feeding habits of cheetahs.

"What did I do?" Jensen finally asks.

Jared doesn't know a good way to answer the question, but somehow it's still preferable to the silence. He fidgets inside his pullover until he can no longer stop himself from asking, "Is it true you killed your last cellmate?"

Whatever Jensen was expecting to hear, it's obvious that this was nowhere in the ballpark. Jensen looks bowled over for a few moments, and the only response he manages is a huff of a laugh. 

After a beat, he says, "Who you been talking to about me?"

"Doesn't matter," Jared replies. "Is it true?"

"Murray?" Jensen guesses. "Your old cellmate?"

"Chad's afraid of you." Jared levels Jensen with his best attempt at a hard expression. "Does he have a reason to be?"

"I'm an irritable bastard and he’s pretty irritating," says Jensen. He calmly reaches out, taking a cookie off the plate Jared brought him and biting into it. He chews slowly, like he's unconcerned with the conversation. "I never did anything to your rat friend."

"Jensen, don't put on an act with me, okay? It's too late in the game for all that.” Jared meets his eyes again, though it takes some effort to hold the gaze. “I know you’re not that kind of person. Just tell me—"

“Do you? Do you know? Because you’re trembling like a little mouse stuck in a trap.” Jensen slams his fists on the table and turns his face away like he can’t stand the sight of Jared, and somehow it’s that second thing that scares Jared more than the outburst. “And you wanna talk about not putting on acts? You’ve been in here playing games with me for forty minutes thinking I might…”

He expects Jensen to lash out again, turn over the chessboard or throw the remote at the TV. But instead he stays frozen in place with a look of horror dawning on his face.

“When you came in here and grabbed your ankles,” Jensen says, swallowing hard. “If my touching your hand made you pull back, there’s no way you wanted me to do that.”

“I was afraid to say no,” Jared admits, snaking his arms back through their sleeves so he can reach out to Jensen in a pleading gesture. “Don’t be mad at me. I was trying to be good.”

Jensen nods like that’s what he expected and asks in a low voice, “How many times were you just afraid to say no?”

“Not _just_ afraid,” Jared says. “I wanted it, too. I want it. Jensen, I never once didn’t.”

“How am I supposed to believe you?” Jensen asks, shifting away from Jared’s attempt to grab him. His words sound thin, and if Jared didn’t know him better, he’d think Jensen was on the verge of tears.

“I don’t want to be afraid of you,” Jared assures him. “But I can’t help it until I know. Did you do it or not?"

"You really want to know?" Jensen asks coldly. "Because I'll tell you."

"I really do."

Jensen looks around the rec room, then stands and goes to the door, sticking his head into the hallway to confirm that they're alone. Jared doesn't even risk taking a breath as he follows Jensen with his eyes, waiting to find out what he's been hiding.

"My former cellmate was a fucking asshole," Jensen tells him with his back turned. "I could not be less sorry he's dead. But I didn't do it."

"Chad said his throat was cut in your cell." Jared starts to bounce his foot under the table. "And that the guards were in on it. You're the only one around here guards obey."

"I didn't invent corruption, Jared." Jensen rounds to face him. "You know Sheppard? And his gang?"

Jared nods.

"They used to be run by another Mark, Pelligrino. Sheppard's cousin or something. I never paid much attention. Anyway, Sheppard was second in command, but you could tell he was bitter about it. Didn't like taking orders. He wanted to call the shots."

"So _he_ did it?" Jared asks.

"That's right," Jensen says, retaking his seat across the table. "The guard worked for their operation on the outside. Apparently they're connected enough to sneak a guy through C.O. training. He tampered with the security footage and left the cells unlocked, faked a little distraction so there would be a nice fifteen minute window for Sheppard to get in and out. I wasn't even there when the hit went down. Got back to an uncharacteristically quiet cellmate, which, honestly, was a big improvement compared to the way the guy usually blathered on."

"So why don't you tell people that?" Jared asks. "Why keep Sheppard's secret?"

"You kidding me?" Jensen laughs dismissively. "It was the best thing that could have happened to me. Suddenly everyone was too scared to try anything. I didn't have to fight motherfuckers off just to shower. Mark and I have a mutual understanding. He sees to it that his gang doesn’t bother me. In exchange, I don't tell them he broke the sacred bonds of family or whatever, so he gets to stay on top. Win-win."

"But you could have been charged for it!" Jared says. "You could have spent your whole life in max for something you didn't do."

"They couldn't make it stick because there wasn't any goddamn evidence against me because I didn't do it. Believe me, the last warden would have loved nothing more." Jensen stands up to grab the remote and turn off the television, then hovers over the couch as he seems to consider whether to sit or not. “By that point, I didn't really care if they did charge me for it. Max would have been better than staying here."

"This place isn't so bad," Jared tells him. "You know, for a jail."

"Now." For a beat, that's all Jensen says, but apparently, he decides to elaborate without Jared having to prompt him. "There's a reason my parents bought the warden, Jared. There's a reason we bribe the guards. It's not because I'm too pampered to do my time like everyone else. It started because I couldn't live here anymore the way things were."

Jensen starts to pace the room, so Jared stands up and goes to his side, stroking his hands down Jensen's arms to calm him. He's used to seeing Jensen get agitated, likes to think he's getting half-decent at deescalating when Jensen's control is slipping. "Tell me."

"The last warden was a tyrant. He'd decide he wanted something, and if you said no..." Jensen’s lips thin like he has a lemon in his mouth. "There were some months I spent more days in solitary than in my cell. The only person I'd ever see was him. He'd come by at the end of the day, say I could get out if I let him fuck me. He never actually tried to force me. Almost wish he had. I would’ve snapped him in half. He tried to break me instead.”

Jared frowns, though it’s hard to imagine Jensen ever being in that vulnerable a position. “You’re not breakable. I guess he learned that lesson.” Jared squeezes his arm so Jensen doesn’t get lost in his thoughts and find his way to anger. “Someone like that can’t hurt you. If it had been me—"

“It _was_ you,” Jensen insists, closing his eyes tightly. “He did it to other inmates. Guys who couldn’t stand up for themselves. Weatherly was a predator. There was no one to check him. So I had my parents pay a few guards to go on the record against him. Nothing they said wasn't true, but it took some bribing to help them find the courage to do the right thing."

“That’s just like you,” Jared says, trying to lighten his tone. "Saving the day with payoffs.”

“I didn’t save the day,” Jensen tells him. “I saved myself.”

“Yeah, and everyone else,” Jared says, brushing off Jensen’s dismissal. “So where is he now?"

"Still in a prison, but he's been taken down a peg. He's on the other side of the bars now. For longer than I'll be in here, even if I do have to serve my full sentence.” Jensen huffs. “I could have been out after ten years if not for him. Had to get Warden Beaver to write me a glowing letter just so the board would even consider looking at me for parole again. That sonofabitch would look for reasons to punish me. So when they hired Beaver to take his place, my parents cut a big ol' check to his wife's campaign fund, and now we're all good friends."

Jared feels a smile spread across his face and Jensen looks at him like he's grown a second head. "What's that look all about?"

"I knew it," he tells Jensen, clasping hands before letting them drop. "Okay, I admit, I did believe it a little. But deep down I knew you couldn't have done something like that."

"I did do something like that," Jensen replies. "Remember?"

Jared makes a dismissive sound. "That was different. I thought you’d killed someone in cold blood."

"It wasn't so different."

“Of course it was,” Jared insists, threading his arms around Jensen’s neck. “You help people. It’s who you are. You saved me. You stood up to that warden. And if your sister hadn’t needed you to protect her, you would be a fancy doctor right now, saving lives every day.”

“Don’t play stupid, Jared.” Jensen takes Jared’s hands and lowers them, but he doesn’t let them go completely. “A man like me doesn’t help people. I got too much of a temper.”

"So what?" Jared asks, disappointed that Jensen isn’t letting him enjoy his relief. "You could have been a fighter, but you chose to study medicine instead. No one becomes a doctor by accident. All those years of studying and training. You did all that so you could—"

"Murder a man with my bare hands," Jensen says, holding up his fists to illustrate his point. "Knew just where to apply the pressure to make it hurt."

Jared puts a little bit of space between them and doesn't even notice he's doing it until Jensen barks a laugh and says, "That's more like it."

Every part of Jared wishes he could be with Jensen and not waver for even a moment. But he’s been a coward as long as he's been anything. He can't be expected to stand here and not be a little terrified. Jensen is a killer.

Nine months ago, that was all Jared needed to know about someone to want to keep his distance. But nine months ago, Jared was lying in a puddle of his own piss, convulsing, screaming to die, and if Jensen were just a killer, he would have let it happen.

He quakes as he takes Jensen’s raised fists in his hands and smooths each one out, pressing a kiss to the palms.

Maybe Jensen thinks he was too out of it to remember, but Jared will never, ever forget. These same hands he used to murder a man held Jared steady and wiped him clean. For no reason. He didn’t know Jared. He wasn’t looking for sex. It's been months and Jared still can't figure out why Jensen did it.

So, these are a killer's hands without question. But a healer's, also. Jared, coward though he may be, doesn't think the second thing should be completely undone by the first.

Jensen looks at Jared with confusion clear on his face, but he doesn't pull away. "What are you doing?"

"You aren't one bad thing you did one time," Jared says quietly. "That's not all you are."

For a split second, Jared sees something flame up in Jensen's eyes. Something endlessly vulnerable. Before Jared can be sure it was there, Jensen extinguishes it. He gives Jared a snide look and adds, "I liked it."

Jared flinches at that, but he stands his ground, holding Jensen's hands firmly between his own. "You're trying to scare me. You don't have to try that hard."

"You should be scared of me, yeah." Jensen catches Jared's eye and holds it. "I knew the moment he was dead. Felt a crack, identified what it was I'd shattered, and that he couldn't have survived it. You know what I did? I kept going. When the cops arrived and beat the door down, they had to tear me off the body. I was still whaling on him. His family couldn't even identify him from his face. It wasn't really there anymore."

"Stop," Jared says. "Please, stop. I get it."

“That story you bought about why I did it, it’s only half true. Don’t feel bad. The judge bought it, too. He called it a crime of passion, but you know what? I knew I was going to do it. I'd made up my mind before I even got in the car. Drove three hours and I never once thought about _not_ killing him. When I got there, I grabbed my sister and pushed her into the hall so I could lock her out and take my time with it. Not to rough him up. I didn’t go too far in the moment by mistake. I made a choice.”

“I don’t need to hear this,” Jared tells him, trying to shove past.

“Yeah, you do. So you’ll stop telling me I’m here to help people.” Jensen catches Jared around the middle to keep him from leaving the room and reels him in, speaking into Jared's ear. “I could have made it easy, too. Could have snapped his neck real fast. Instead I went to town on him. Just for the fun of it. I was so _angry_. Not just at him, it was everything. My whole damn life felt like a trap and suddenly I was free. You’ll never know how good it felt to lose control like that. If you want to know who I am, it was that moment right there.”

“No, that’s not true,” Jared slumps in Jensen’s arms and turns his face to the floor. “Why are you doing this?” 

"I'm just telling you the truth, kid," Jensen replies, seizing Jared by the shoulders. "Hey, look at me. Maybe your friend Chad did us both a favor. You have any idea how exhausting it's been the last few months, having you trail after me, looking like I'm some kind of hero? Knowing you’d curl into a ball on the floor if you got a glimpse of who I really am? Well here I am, Jared. I killed because I loved it. It was the best thing I ever felt. I wanted it to keep going forever. And I’ve never regretted it, not once. You don’t like me so much now, do you?”

Jared closes his eyes tightly. “Let me go. You’re—”

“What?” Jensen demands, shaking Jared. “Scaring you? Isn’t that all I do?”

“Hurting me.” Jared opens his eyes and turns his face toward Jensen’s. “Jensen, you’re hurting me.”

It’s like a switch was flipped, how fast Jensen’s fingers lose their grip and he takes a step back, almost stumbling away from Jared. Jared tries to catch him, but Jensen holds an arm out.

“Just go,” he says. “I won’t follow you. You don’t have to be near me.”

“I’m not going anywhere.” Jared moves in, ignoring Jensen’s attempt to keep him at arm’s length, and reaches out. “I’m here.”

“I didn’t mean to hurt you. I never meant to—I just get carried away.” Jensen covers his face and when he speaks again, his words are a whisper. “Do you hate me yet?”

It’s only when he tries lowering Jensen's hands to reveal his face and feels the wetness on his fingertips that Jared realizes Jensen is crying. His Jensen, the strongest person he’s ever known, is shaky as Jared touches him, and when he closes his eyes, a tear slips down his cheek.

“I’m so tired of waiting for you to hate me. Please, just do it already.”

“Why would I hate you?” Jared asks, wrapping an arm around Jensen. “After everything you’ve done for me?”

“Because I’m not good,” Jensen says. He rocks in Jared’s arms and continues, “You want me to be a hero, but I never will be. I’m not a good man.”

“Maybe you’re not,” Jared agrees.

Jensen looks up at him, hesitant to meet his eyes, and Jared sees it so clearly now. Jensen is scared, too. He has been this whole time. Of different things, but just as much as Jared is.

In that moment, he understands how deep Jensen’s desire not to hurt him goes, that it runs all the way to Jensen’s hot blood. The only thing someone like Jensen could be afraid of. Not pain. Not prison. He’s afraid he’ll hurt Jared.

And realizing that, it has the oddest effect. It makes Jared feel something he’s never even gotten close to before. Fearless. He’s not, he knows that, but right here right now, he is. It doesn’t matter what Jensen has done to other people, because he truly doesn’t want to hurt Jared. He’s _afraid_ of it. Jared has found someone safe. He couldn’t care less that Jensen is only safe for him. No one else ever has been.

“You’re not good,” Jared says, pressing a kiss to Jensen’s wet cheek and pulling him in close. “But you are mine. And I wouldn’t want you different.”

______________________________________________________________________

**JENSEN**

It takes longer than he’s expecting, but when it sets in, it hits hard.

Jensen has seen the full spectrum of drug detoxes in his life, so he knows Jared’s is coming. Heroin is a nasty habit to kick, and judging by the marks on Jared’s arms, the kid has been taking more in than oxygen.

When he was in school, Jensen used to volunteer at a rehab clinic once a week. His parents’ idea. One more way to look like a good person in public without actually having to be one. Deep down, though, Jensen actually did get a sense of pride from the work he did there. It brought him a glimpse of peace when people walked out on the other side of addiction. On the rare occasion he’s let himself imagine getting free, he’s even wondered if they would take him back, since any kind of prestigious career in medicine went out the window around the time he took the Hippocratic Oath and shoved it through a man’s brain.

Maybe that's why he decides to take this on. Now that he's stuck Jared in his cell and cut off the kid's supply, he almost feels like he owes Jared the support, but Jensen doesn't do much without ulterior motives. At its heart, this is probably an attempt to recapture those brief times in his life when he's flirted with decency. To make himself feel good, so he doesn't actually have to be. Apple doesn't fall far, and all that.

Thanks to his years at the Manners Recovery Center, Jensen was able to prepare for this as much as his situation allows. But he's starting to reach the limits of what he can do. Jensen hasn’t slept for more than a few minutes at a time in fifty-six hours, and Jared is still not through the worst of it.

“Either of you want to tell me why you haven’t reported to your work assignments?” C.O. Morgan asks as he approaches the cell, but he immediately pulls back, covering his face with his arm as he does so. “Jesus Christ, what is _that_?”

“That’s my cellmate,” Jensen says. He’s standing by the toilet, propping Jared up so he doesn’t fall off of it. Jared is shaking, sweating out of every pore, and making sounds of distress. Not to mention the mess. Jensen became desensitized to the smell hours ago. “He’s a little under the weather.”

“A little under the weather,” Morgan sputters. "He's going through withdrawal."

“Yeah,” Jensen replies. “So you can see why we can’t really make it to work today.”

“He should be with the nurse.” Morgan waves a hand in front of his face, as if that’s going to help any with the stench. “And you should be at work.”

“Can’t take him to the nurse,” Jensen says. “You mind bringing me some wet towels? And toilet paper, like a whole pack of it.”

"You forget you're not the boss around here," Morgan tells him. "You can't just decide to do whatever you want."

"He's going to have to go through this whether he's with the nurse or with me," says Jensen. He pushes sweaty hair out of Jared's face and makes some soothing noises before turning his attention back to the guard. "Are you gonna make yourself useful, or what?"

“Have you lost your mind, inmate?” Morgan asks, moving to unlock the cell. “How long have you been hiding this? What are you thinking?”

“It’s okay,” Jensen reassures Jared, kneeling down so that their faces are level, trying to gauge how bad Jared’s pain is. He turns to the C.O. and repeats, “It’s okay. I know what I’m doing.”

“You know what you’re—Ackles, I should report you for this. He could have died because of you. I need to get him to the infirmary immediately.”

“He won’t die,” Jensen says, though, really, he’s seen it happen on rare occasion. And Jared is in a bad way. “But you might if you try to take him out of this cell.”

Morgan slides the gate on their cell shut and locks it before looking down the hall, obviously considering calling for backup. “Are you threatening me?"

"Only if you don't listen," Jensen replies. "Only if you fuck this up for him."

"If I let this go on any longer than it has, I could lose my job.” Morgan crosses his arms over his chest. “Whichever guard you paid off to turn a blind eye on this so long _will_ lose their job once I find out—”

“If he dies, I’ll confess. I’ll tell them I did it with malicious intent. They can send me to max for life if he dies.” Jensen gives Jared his hand to squeeze, though Jared's grip is weak. “He ain’t gonna die.”

“Why don’t you just step aside and let me—?”

“He’s been in here for over two months,” Jensen says, looking up at Morgan. “He should have detoxed weeks ago. You get what I’m saying? We take him to the nurse like this, she’s gonna know he was using after he got here. He’ll get more time. You and I both know who gave him the drugs. Another hack like you who was supposed to be protecting him. And now he’s gonna do more time because of that? That sound right to you?”

"Of course it doesn't," Morgan hisses. "But neither does risking his life to avoid a few extra months being added to—"

"People die from this more in prison than on the street," Jensen tells him. "You can check that. What's the nurse gonna do for him that I can't? You've worked here long enough to know how these things go. If Jared's case gets reported, it's another embarrassment in the press. The warden won't waste resources looking after an inmate whose drug use was prolonged by guards. It would be neater for everyone if he does die. Or do you want to pretend that doesn't add up?"

Morgan scratches his beard, looking conflicted. 

"Look, I'm asking for a lot here. You could lose your job. I know you don't like me, and I don't blame you. But my parents' money didn't always go to bribes. It paid for med school, too. I'm better trained to handle this than just about anyone else inside these walls. You're a rarity, Morgan. You actually care. I’m the best shot he's got."

Finally Morgan says, "You're sure you can get him through this?"

Jensen licks his lips. "Bring me some supplies and let us have a couple more days without work duty. He should be okay to make it to dinner by tonight. Once I get some food into him and he can fall asleep, the worst of it is over."

"If he's not on his feet by my next shift, I'm taking him to the nurse."

"Assuming I haven't passed out by then," Jensen jokes. "I'll help you carry him there."

Things get a little better once Jensen is able to clean Jared off and get him back into bed. Granted, there’s no way Jared is climbing up to his bunk in this state, so it’s Jensen’s mattress he’s currently sweating through. Jensen’s not exactly thrilled about that. Hopefully, his pull with the guards will extend far enough to get him a new one, because three days in, everything in this cell is beyond saving. The mattress should be dragged outside and set on fire with the sheets used for kindling.

“It hurts so much,” Jared tells him, turning his face away from Jensen as Jensen tries to give him some water. “You don’t know how much this hurts.”

“Tell me where,” Jensen says, holding the bottle away from Jared’s face for a moment. “What’s hurting?”

“Everything, please.” Jared groans. “Please, please, please…”

Jensen sighs, ignoring Jared’s begging like he has been for days. “Come on, open up. You need to stay hydrated.”

“Don’t want that,” Jared says. “Just want. Something. Anything. Please. Give me anything. Just a little bit. Just to take the edge off. I promise I’ll stop after. Just a little bit.”

“Yeah, okay,” Jensen tells him. “Have some water and I’ll get you some.”

Jensen has pulled this trick more times than he’s kept track of, but Jared’s too loopy to remember the con, so he falls for it again. Eagerly takes a long drink and then pulls away, looking at Jensen expectantly.

“Good boy,” Jensen says, setting the water bottle on the ground and picking up a cool cloth instead. He wipes Jared’s mouth where some water spilled and gives him a small smile. “That’s real good.”

“I was good,” Jared agrees. “Can I have—?”

“I don’t think that’s what you need right now.” Jensen turns the cloth inside-out so that he has a clean side to wipe Jared with. “How about some rest instead?”

“I am good, you know.” Jared catches Jensen’s hand as Jensen tries to dab some of the sweat off his forehead and smiles sweetly. “I’m so good. I’ll be so good. I’ll do anything you want. Whatever. I’ll be good.”

“I’m not giving you drugs,” Jensen tells him. “And I’ve told you not to—"

“Think I survived this long by not knowing when someone wants to fuck me?” Jared asks, getting ugly. “I know. You can say you don’t, but I know. I’ve seen how you look at me. You can have whatever you want. And I’ll be good, too.”

Maybe it’s the lack of sleep, but Jensen laughs. Because, actually, Jared is right. Jensen looks. Jared has made a lot of offers to him, even before the detox, and they haven’t been easy to reject. But right now?

“Kid, I just wiped your ass and cleaned your shit off the floor with my sheets. I am not tempted to get anywhere near what you’ve got going on down there.”

“I’ve got a mouth, then,” Jared insists. “I can use my hands.”

“Right now, you can hardly blink without getting confused,” Jensen points out.

“You could end this.” Jared reaches out, hands curling in Jensen’s shirt without the force to properly grip him. “You could make it stop. Please. Anything. Just a little bit. So you don’t have to clean up after me. Please. It hurts. Please. Make it stop. Make it stop. They’ll bring you anything you ask for. Help me.”

“I am helping you, believe it or not,” Jensen tells him. “Only way I know how. You’ll see when you’re through this. There’s not much longer now, okay?”

“Can’t do anymore,” Jared cries. “I’m gonna die. I’m gonna die. Please.”

“You’re not,” Jensen promises, and this time he’s sure. It would have happened by now. “You’re not gonna die.”

“Let me,” Jared whispers. “Just let me.”

“Hey, shh,” Jensen says, stroking a hand through Jared’s sweat-soaked hair. “You’re not going anywhere. You’re gonna get through this, and you’re gonna get better.”

“Don’t want to get better,” says Jared. “Just want to take enough to—why can’t I just die?”

“Why don’t you try to sleep a little?” Jensen asks, ignoring what Jared just said because, fuck, he’s equipped to get Jared through the physical pain. The rest of it is not his wheelhouse.

Jensen crawls a few feet down and picks up Jared’s leg, massaging the tense muscles in Jared’s calves because he knows that might help the kid’s stomach. “Sleep for a few hours and you’ll see how much better you feel when you wake up.”

Jared shakes his head, even as his eyes start to droop. “Can’t sleep like this.”

At some point, Jensen must drift off, too, because he wakes up curled on the floor next to the bunk with a hand on his head. He rushes to his feet, turning to see if Jared’s okay, and his brain catches up to what’s happening. It was Jared’s touch that woke him. Jared is sitting up against the wall, watching Jensen.

“How you feeling?” Jensen asks, rubbing at his eyes. “Do you need anything?”

Jared’s still shaking like the last leaf on a tree, but his face is clear, in the moment. He looks down at his arms, then up at Jensen and asks, “Is it out now?”

“Not all of it, I don’t think,” Jensen says. “You had a ton in your system, Jared. You don’t know how lucky you are you never overdosed.”

Jared laughs. “Overdosing was kind of the point. I guess I can’t even do that right.”

Not sure how to respond to that, Jensen shrugs and again asks, “How do you feel?”

“I feel shitty.” Jared lifts his eyes to Jensen’s. “But I feel clean.”

“You’re not,” Jensen replies. “I’m not sure there’s enough soap in this prison to—”

“Since the first time, I’ve never been clean.” Jared is musing more to himself than anything, missing Jensen’s tired joke. Instead he’s focusing on his arms again, holding them in front of his face like he expects them to start glowing or something. “Even when I’ve done time, no one ever made me quit. I’ve never, never been clean.”

“You got a real chance at kicking it now,” Jensen tells him. “Those first few days are the hardest not to relapse.”

Jared laughs at his arms as he turns them over. “Nah,” he says. “But when I do start using again, that won’t change this. I’m clean. Right now. There’s nothing in me. I got clean.”

“You’ll stay like that if you try.” Jensen swallows hard and makes himself sound as annoyed as possible. “Anyway, if you do start up again, do it somewhere else. Because I’m not going through this again.”

When Jared looks up, it’s not the same Jared he’s known in here the last couple of months. Not the junkie in detox and not the scrappy kid looking for a fix from before, either. He looks like a little boy, and Jensen wonders if this is a Jared that hasn’t existed since he was one.

His eyes are bright and wet, and he’s smiling at Jensen like he is made of pure China white and Jared wants him in his veins.

“You made me clean,” Jared says.

He waves it off and is about to say something dismissive, but before he gets a chance, Jared rises to his feet, attempting to take a quick step toward Jensen. Jared has been off his feet for days, so what he does is more of a trip.

Jared catches himself on the fabric of Jensen’s shirt and then stands up straight, looking into Jensen’s eyes for a long, heavy moment. Then he wraps both of his arms around Jensen’s shoulders and tucks his face against Jensen’s neck whispering “you made me clean” over and over.

Jensen is too stunned to do anything but lift his arms and return the embrace. He feels something shift inside of him, and from that moment he knows he wouldn’t just kill for this kid. He would die for him, too.

______________________________________________________________________

**JARED**

Jensen smiles at him from every flat surface in this room.

Jared thought, when Chris told him he would be staying in Jensen’s old bedroom, that he would feel Jensen’s presence in every wrinkle in the sheets on the bed, every poster on the walls, every long-abandoned article of clothing neatly tucked away in the drawers. He was counting on it. A small comfort to make up for the complete loss of familiarity that being here has brought him. 

But these things, all left untouched for ten years, don’t give Jared any sense of the man he knew. This is just another jail cell Jensen lived in before he shared one with Jared. A museum to someone Jensen tried to be but wasn’t. 

The photographs are the worst, though. It doesn’t matter who he’s with or where they are, Jensen’s smile is identical in every single one of them. Like someone photocopied the first and glued the duplicates onto the rest. It’s a picture perfect face that reads like a cry for help to Jared. There’s no real joy in the grin. It doesn’t reach his eyes. Jared has seen Jensen really smile just once, but the image is seared into his memory. He knows how to tell the difference.

Jared used to look closely at the photographs, trying to learn something new, but there wasn’t much he didn’t know and they were easy to memorize. Truth be told, they make him a little uneasy. It’s tough to miss the empty look in Jensen’s eyes, the panic behind that. Somewhere inside that straight-laced golden boy in the white coat, Jared’s monster is trapped, alone, biding his time until he can bust out.

There’s only one picture that’s different, and Jared hates that one most of all. Jensen’s face is turned away from the camera, because he’s kissing a guy’s cheek. They’re standing in front of an intimidating, old-looking building surrounded by a sea of people in black robes and graduation caps, like the ones they’re wearing. The man is tall, with long brown hair, and his dimpled smile is genuine. He makes Jared look like a cheap knockoff.

He’d asked Chris the first day about that photograph, because he couldn’t help his curiosity. Tom Welling, Chris told him, Jensen’s longtime boyfriend. Jared asked if Jensen had loved him, and Chris laughed, telling Jared he’d only seen Jensen love one person in his life. He’d wanted to pry even more, to know what Tom was like, to find out if he could learn to be the kind of person Jensen could love. He stopped himself, because he knew how stupid that would have sounded.

Sometimes, he thinks about getting rid of them. Throwing Jensen and all his adventures and the strangers he shared them with into a box and tucking it away in one of the closets Jared could never own enough things to fill any other way. Chris made it clear, when he gave Jared the tour of the apartment, that he could do whatever he wanted with this space. But he leaves everything exactly as he found it, hoping the ghost of that Jensen will decide to appear someday and haunt him. Someone else’s Jensen is better than no Jensen at all.

He ignores them now as he lays here on a bed roughly the size of the entire world he and Jensen shared not so long ago and looks up at the clean, white ceiling in his bedroom, waiting for a sound to tell him it’s safe to go outside again.

There aren’t a lot of rules here, so Jared has to be pretty strict with himself. Outside, there are a lot of ways to go wrong and only one way not to. And Chris keeps leaving him unsupervised.

Finally, he hears the front door open and it’s like an electric shock passes through him, how quick he sits up. Jared has embarrassed himself enough Tuesdays, though, so he counts out ninety seconds and is sure he’s walking slowly as he makes his way out into the living area.

“You’re home,” he observes, trying to sound unconcerned.

There’s a laugh from inside the refrigerator, and Chris closes the door a few moments later, a cold beer held in one hand. He sets his keys down on the kitchen island as he meets Jared’s eagerness with amusement.

“Wow, you noticed,” Chris says, twisting the cap off his beer. “You gonna ask me how I am, or should we dive right into it?”

“How was your day?” Jared asks, trying to be polite.

Again, Chris laughs. “You mean, ‘how was Jensen?’”

Jared won’t pretend Chris doesn’t have his number. “How did he look? Has he been fighting? Is he okay?”

“He’s…” Chris takes a drink from his beer and swallows it, his face tensing as he shrugs. “I’ve seen him better. I’ve seen him worse. Didn’t look like he’d been fighting.”

“His hands?” Jared touches his fingers to illustrate his point. “Did you look at his knuckles? His face wouldn’t look different. No one ever gets a hit in on Jensen. You have to check his knuckles.”

“I know,” Chris replies, rolling his eyes. “I was keeping him out of trouble when you were still a baby.”

“Right,” Jared says, ducking his head. “Sorry. I forgot.”

“He misses you,” Chris tells him.

Jared’s eyes dart up too fast. “He said that?”

“You kidding?” Chris waves a hand at him as he opens the fridge and looks around at what’s inside. “Of course not. But he asked about you a lot.”

“What did you tell him?” Jared licks his lips. “You didn’t tell him about—?”

“No, I didn’t tell him about the test.”

“Good, because I wanna tell him.” Jared finds it impossible to contain his excitement, so he bounces a little as he takes a few more steps toward the kitchen. “It was Jensen’s idea, you know. Getting my GED. I thought it was so crazy.”

Chris reaches for something but glances at Jared as he says, “And now you’ve got it. Imagine that.”

“Yeah, I think he’ll be real proud.” Jared tries not to seem too antsy as he adds, “Maybe next time you go see him, I could come, too.”

“Now, Jared, you know I can’t close The Forte in the middle of the day like that. I need you there to keep it open.” Chris turns his attention back to the food in front of him. “What do you say to roasted rosemary chicken and vegetables and some garlic mashed potatoes?”

“Beats prison food,” Jared replies, trying to pretend he’s not devastated. Chris has never been unclear with him about visitation days, but Jared keeps hoping. Just one time. Maybe Jensen will ask for him.

As expected, Chris starts stacking ingredients on the island while mumbling to himself about how no one appreciates his culinary gifts appropriately. Jared watches him, amused, until everything is set up the way Chris likes it.

“Want help?” he offers.

“Sure,” Chris says as he starts chopping carrots. “Take my only joy away from me. When I know damn well you ain’t gonna do it right.”

Jared drops onto one of the stools and leans both elbows on the island. “How about I just keep you company while you cook instead? And I can fill you in on what you missed at The Forte today.”

“Works for me,” Chris replies.

For about fifteen minutes, Jared shares the details of his day: sales, who stopped by to hang fliers for dive bar open mikes, and, of course, the bottom line. Chris likes to hear if he’s making money, though he seems to enjoy grumbling about when he isn’t just as much.

Once everything is in the oven and all there is left is to wait for the water to boil, Chris braces his arms on the counter across from Jared and gives him a weighty look. “Listen, Jared. Sounds like you handled yourself great today. You always do. Thanks for your hard work.”

Jared feels giddy at the praise, at the acknowledgement that he’s had four whole months to screw this up and he still hasn’t, but he tries to play it off. “Hey, that’s my job, right?”

“Yeah, but…” Chris scratches his cheek. “Jensen was right about you. You’ve been a lifesaver these last few months. I’m sorry I ever doubted you.”

At those last words, the smile that had been spreading across Jared’s face falters. “What do you mean?”

“You know, when he first asked me to give you a job.” Chris bites the inside of his cheek. “I judged you without even knowing you, and I couldn’t have been more wrong.”

“Right.” Jared nods, as if he knows what Chris is talking about, because he thinks maybe he’s starting to get it. “When he asked you. To give me a job. Because it wasn’t your idea.”

“My idea?” Chris asks. “Why would it have been my idea?”

“Nothing,” Jared says. “Just…he told me you asked if he knew anyone being released who you could hire so you could get the tax breaks. Said that was the only way you could afford to hire someone.”

Chris blinks at him for a few moments, takes another drag from his beer, and then sets it down, continuing his staring. Finally, he shakes his head. “The two of you, I swear.”

“I think you like us,” Jared teases. “Deep down.”

“You’re alright,” Chris admits. He crosses his arms over his chest. “Alona’s coming over tomorrow night.”

“That’s cool,” Jared replies. “I like her.”

“I’m pretty fond of her myself,” Chris jokes. “I was thinking, since you’ve been doing such good work at the store, maybe you could go out for a movie and dinner tomorrow, on me. Maybe try to make a friend or meet someone or check out a new restaurant.”

“Oh, you want to have loud sex,” Jared guesses. “That’s okay. I’m totally used to hearing people have sex. And people hearing me! Don’t worry about it.”

“As uncomfortable as that is to hear knowing what I know about you and my childhood best friend—so thank you for the mental picture—that’s not really what I was getting at. It would be nice to have a little privacy every now and then. She and I sure got used to having this place to ourselves. But I think it’d be good for you, too. You can’t stay locked up in here or at the store all the time, Jared.”

"I go to AA, too," Jared defends. Chris scoffs, so Jared adds, “You don’t understand. I can’t go out by myself. I’ll slip up.”

“Thought you might say that.” Chris frowns. “You’re not in prison anymore, son. You’re supposed to be enjoying life a little. And part of really recovering from addiction is trusting yourself and proving to yourself that you can stay clean, even when you have the option not to.”

Chris has good intentions, but Chris doesn’t get it. There are at least six more months on Jared’s sentence. Until Jensen is out, he can’t trust himself, so the rules are all he has to keep him honest. Without Jensen to be good for…even his gratitude toward Chris for giving him a job, agreeing to live with him, keeping an eye out, and making an effort to help Jared feel less lost in this new life—that’s probably not enough. Jared is a fuck up first, everything else second.

“You sound like my sponsor,” Jared teases.

“I’m gonna say that’s a good thing,” Chris replies, giving him a nod. “Maybe you could invite someone from your meetings along tomorrow night. I’m happy to pay for two. Anyone you think you could be friends with? You only ever talk to me.”

“And Alona,” Jared points out. “I’m gonna tell her you forgot about her.”

“You’ll tell her no such thing.” Chris moves forward, giving Jared an affectionate shove on the shoulder. “You listening to me at all?”

He shrugs. “Not really.”

Chris sighs. “Right, what do I know? I’m just here to cook for your ungrateful, skinny ass.”

“Speaking of, I think it’s time to start the potatoes,” Jared says, pointing to the boiling pot of water on the stove.

“Can’t stand you,” Chris tells him. He turns his attention back to his cooking, but he doesn’t let that distract him from pestering Jared. “Let’s make a deal. I’m going to see Jensen’s lawyers on Thursday. Do I have your attention yet?”

“After he meets with the parole board?” Jared asks.

“I see that I do have your attention.” Chris smirks. “How would you like to come with me?”

“Really?” Jared nearly claps his hands. “So I can hear if he’s getting out? You would take me?”

“If,” Chris says, gesturing at Jared with his potato masher, “you go out for at least two hours tomorrow night and try to have fun.”

“Fine,” Jared agrees grudgingly. “I’ll swing by Whataburger and go see the new Star Wars. But then I’m coming right back here.”

“That’s a start.” Chris smiles, and Jared can’t help remembering how Jensen used to describe his expression as pinched, because it’s true that Chris smiles like he’s not really sure how to do it. “We’ll make a day of it. Grab lunch before we go to the law firm. It’ll be fun.”

Jared thinks for a moment, then says, “Won’t we have to close The Forte if we both go?”

Without stopping to think, Chris replies, “Sure, just for a few hours. It won’t be the end of the world.”

And that’s all the confirmation Jared needed. He silently curses Jensen, who lied to Jared about why Chris hired him, and apparently got Chris to lie to him about vistations, too. “He asked you not to bring me.”

“What?” Chris asks.

“Jensen,” Jared clarifies. “He told you not to bring me when you visit him. You don’t actually care about closing the store.”

“Oh boy,” Chris replies, turning away as if his potatoes are suddenly the most interesting things he’s ever seen.

“He doesn’t want to see me,” Jared says, feeling a sudden rush of tears prickling at his eyes. “Jensen doesn’t want to see me.”

“Jesus,” Chris mutters. “How’d I end up in the middle of this?”

“I’m sorry.” Jared stares down at the island counter in front of him. “I just thought. He might want to see me.”

“Of course he wants to see you,” Chris tells him. “Come on, you’ve figured this much out. Don’t get stupid on me now.”

Jared turns over everything he knows and lifts his eyes to Chris’s. “He doesn’t want me to see him.”

“Bingo.” Chris drapes a towel over one shoulder as he strains the water out of the potatoes and gives Jared an apologetic look. “He told me not to tell you that, because of some macho horseshit or other, but I guess since you figured it out yourself, I’m in the clear.”

“But _why_?” Jared holds out his arms. “He needs me. I need him.”

“That right there is why,” Chris says. “You’re too dependent on him. He wants you to get a little distance. Start doing things for yourself, not for him. Move on if he’s gonna be in jail for longer than we’re hoping, you know?”

“Move on,” Jared repeats. “Move on to what?”

“I don’t know, man.” Chris starts beating the potatoes up like this is all their fault. “Find a boyfriend or something. He thinks. Well. He thinks you would like that.”

“I don’t want that,” Jared insists. “I would never want anyone but him.”

“Try telling him that. I’ve known brick walls more flexible than Jensen.” Chris pauses and sets the pot aside, hesitating for a long minute. “He thinks he hurt you or something. Like, I think he thinks…” Chris licks his lips. “When you guys got together or whatever. Did he?”

“No,” Jared replies. “Never.”

Chris looks relieved, but he plays it off. “Right, forget it. I knew that. Just, you know. Checking.”

“Lots of guys have,” Jared says quietly. “And none of them ever cared. Jensen didn’t, and he’s the one that’s torn up about it. It’s kind of ironic, huh?”

Chris shakes his head. “I’m sorry, Jared.”

Jared shrugs. “You don’t have anything to be sorry about. Neither does Jensen. Take me to see him, so I can tell him that myself.”

“Oh yeah right, he’d kill me if he knew I told you any of this.” Chris pauses for a beat, then laughs. “And that kind of thing is pretty literal when Jensen is involved.”

“That’s not very funny,” says Jared. 

“But it is at least a little bit.”

“I’ll pretend I never heard any of this. Just take me to visit him. For his sake. So he doesn’t have to miss me so bad. If you know it’s just macho horseshit, why go along with it?”

Chris wipes his face on the towel he has over his shoulder. “He might be wrong about some things, but he’s got a point, too. I think it’s good for you to get used to not having him around. Get your shit right for your own sake. And that way, if things don’t work out once he’s free, you’re still able to take care of yourself, stay sober. Maybe not letting you visit him at all is overkill, but he’s got his reasons.”

“I’ve got reasons, too,” Jared responds. “Why don’t my reasons count?”

“He’s my best friend,” Chris says after a long silence. “You know how hard he is to say no to. And at the end of the day, I’m fond of you, but I’m always gonna take his side, even when he’s being an ass. That’s just how it is.”

Jared nods, because he knows firsthand how easy Jensen can inspire loyalty in people. There's no use fighting Chris about it. “I’m glad he has a friend like you. He didn’t have anyone before I got to Carver. I thought maybe it had always been like that with him.”

“Boy, I remember what he was like in there before you came along.” Chris bites his bottom lip and shrugs. “He never mentioned you to me until he was begging me to give you a job, but I damn well knew something changed.”

______________________________________________________________________

**JENSEN**

Let there be no mistake, Jensen is looking for trouble. He finds Jared, which is a little more trouble than he'd been betting on, but it's a fight he came for.

There's a blind spot in the laundry room. One wall by the door that just hardly misses the camera. Somehow, everyone knows about it, so this is where they go to do their backroom dealing. Jensen has caught all manner of sins happening in here, so he's counting on not finding the room empty.

He's not counting on the guard. Thinks what he'll get is some inmates beating each other up, maybe a gang fight to step in the middle of. But the C.O. gets his hackles raised more than he planned for, because this bastard is supposed to be here to stop this kind of thing. Of course, Jensen knows they don't usually stop shit, but most of them are too smart to actually get involved in it. Not in Jensen's prison.

Jensen had suspected there was a new C.O. causing problems in here, noticed some inmates like Chau and Calvert looking high and dry and like someone roughed them up once they were too out of it to fight. He just hadn't known who to get fired over it.

Now, he does. Because C.O. Wade is here, pressing some kid up against the blind spot with his pants shoved down, and there's no ambiguity over whether the inmate has been given drugs or not. His manic grin and the cloudy expression in his eyes is all Jensen needs to see.

"Been looking for you, C.O.," Jensen says, putting a hand on Wade's back.

The guy looks at him over his shoulder, hips still pumping into the inmate he’s raping. "Ackles. What can I do for you? You want a turn when I'm done? This one is damn tight."

He nearly flinches when he pulls Wade back far enough to see who the victim is, because he recognizes the boy immediately. He's seen him once before. In the showers last week, surrounded by a whole crowd of sadists like this guard.

Padalecki is easy to pick out. He's taller than most of the guys in here, which is saying something. Scrawny, that hungry look of boys who spend their food money on drugs and get their protein another way. Even like this, he's a pretty piece of ass. Jensen hates himself for thinking it, but he looks like he would be warm inside.

Jensen pushes Wade off and into the wall, slamming his back against it. "You're finished here."

"Inmate, you're going to regret this." Wade starts to reach for his baton, and Jensen doesn't even bother stopping him by force.

He puts his lips against the man's ear and asks, "Do you really wanna do that? Because I could disarm you in a moment, and I think we both know whose side the warden will take."

For a moment, the guard keeps his hand tensed on the weapon, but he lets it go without making a move to get it out and stays still where Jensen's got him pinned.

"Look, I did the kid a favor. He wanted this," the C.O. explains. "But if you want me to stop, I'll stop."

"It's too late for that," Jensen tells him. He raises his voice and calls out, "Guard! I need a guard!"

It's not long before one rushes into the room, looking around to assess the situation. Jensen is happy to see it's McKinney who answered the call. One of his.

"Jesus Christ, Travis," McKinney says, looking at his fellow C.O. "What've you gone and done now?"

"This prisoner is attacking me!" Wade says. "You just gonna stand there instead of helping me out?"

"That's exactly what I'm gonna do," McKinney replies. Then he looks up at Jensen. "Unless there's something else I should do?"

"Take C.O. Wade to the warden and let him know what he's been up to. No doubt he's got drugs on him or in his locker." Jensen shoves Wade at McKinney, who already has his cuffs ready. "I want him out of my prison."

"You got it," says McKinney.

"And tell the warden it was Chau he was fucking. Chau nearly overdosed last week and the nurse has seen him three times already since then. He'll tell the warden everything he needs to know about this."

"What about that one?" the guard asks, pointing to Padalecki.

"He's in no state to be talking to the warden." Jensen reaches out and strokes a hand through the boy's hair and Padalecki doesn't even react. "I've got this one."

"You're not gonna—" McKinney looks at the state Padalecki's in, his expression queasy. "Don't you think he's had enough?"

"I'll do whatever I want," Jensen replies. "My parents don't pay you to question me."

"Right." McKinney gives Padalecki one last sorry look and starts leading C.O. Wade out. "I'll forget to mention you when I make my report."

"Much obliged," Jensen says, watching them disappear.

As soon as he's alone with Padalecki, Jensen bends over to pull the kid's pants up and turns him around, propping him against the wall to see if he's been hurt.

"Are you next?" the boy asks, shaking his head like he's just waking up from a nap. He was quiet through everything that just happened, so Jensen wouldn't at all be surprised if he _was_ nodding off.

"No one's next," Jensen tells him. "What do you say we get you to your bunk?"

"I'm Jared," Padalecki tells him. "I know you, don't I?"

"Yeah, we’ve met," Jensen says. "I'm Jensen."

"Jensen," Jared repeats. He nods and smiles off at the wall. "I remember you. Are you next?"

Jensen sighs and puts an arm around Jared's shoulder to carry him out. "You're done, okay? No more today."

"Okay," Jared agrees easily. "Whatever you want."

The way he says it sounds almost innocent, which is weird considering the circumstances. It makes Jensen feel kind of sad. Jared won't survive in here a month making sweet little offers like that, being so easy to lead. It's only been a couple of weeks, and already Jensen's found him in two right messes. He can't help wondering how many situations like this have gone on that he missed.

There's really only one way to stop it from happening anymore, though, and Jensen's not in the market for a cellmate, let alone one he has to keep an eye on at all times.

"I don't understand," Jared says as they make their way down the hall. "Why do you keep helping me?"

Jensen turns to face Jared, because it's not something he expected to hear. He didn't honestly think Jared was present enough to know if Jensen was helping him or not. But Jared is watching him with a soft, sleepy smile on his face, like he's expecting an answer.

And, fuck, Jensen can't leave someone like this unshielded. Another dose like whatever Wade gave him could be his last.

Jared probably won't be here too long, anyway. A cellmate for a few months wouldn't be so bad. Jensen makes up his mind then, but he doesn't say as much.

Instead, he just says, "Because I don't like bullies."

______________________________________________________________________

**JARED**

It's a bright, sunny day, and Jared is hiding in a shadow.

He was excited to come here. In fact, Jared doesn't know that he's ever been so thrilled for anything in his life. But as soon as they got close enough to see the high fence and the imposing walls of Carver Correctional, he started getting spooked.

The happiest days of Jared's life all happened behind those walls. But some pretty awful ones did, too.

"Hey, you want to stay out here?" Chris asks. "We could surprise Jensen. I didn't tell him you were coming. Think he still expects you not to want to have anything to do with him. It'll really give him a kick when he sees you."

Jared knows Chris is more observant than he ever lets on, and he's willing to bet the offer has more to do with the fact that he started curling up in his seat, visibly agitated, as soon as they passed the first sign for this place.

What Jared wants is to rescue Jensen for a change. He wants to march through those doors and refuse to leave until they've given him his heart back. Jared wants to not be so chickenshit he can't wander in somewhere he knows they can't hold him again.

But what he wants isn't what's real. What's real is that Jared is a coward, and he can't face the memories bricked up inside that prison, not even for a few minutes. Not even for Jensen.

So he takes the out. Jared gets out of the car to take in the fresh air, leans against Chris's truck, and watches the gate with his thumbnail pressed into the crook of his elbow. And he waits.

He’d forgotten how long it all takes. Jared is keyed up the entire time Chris is inside, and whenever anyone walks out the doors, he jumps to attention, hoping for that first glimpse of Jensen. He's still an addict, after all.

It feels like the entire day passes before finally the figures walking up the path take the right shape, and Jared watches without breathing, trying to distinguish whether the men approaching are Chris and Jensen or just another false alert.

He’s sure of it long before Jensen spots him. Probably because Jensen's not looking for him. Jensen seems more like a guy walking into prison than one walking out, with his head hung and his shoulders hunched. He doesn't say much, except when Chris initiates an exchange and it seems like his responses are all pretty brief.

Jared obviously can't hear what they're saying, but he knows both men well enough to guess some of it, even from a distance. So he knows that when Chris leans in and points toward the parking area, that's the moment of truth for him. Jensen is about to show him whether he still wants Jared or not.

Jensen pauses to listen to what Chris is saying, then lifts his head, slowly, like he's afraid he won't see what he's expecting. He scans the faces of the relatives standing by the gates, waiting for their own loved ones, growing more dejected as his eyes pass over each one, until they settle on Jared.

If there are words for all the emotions that flash across Jensen’s face in that moment, Jared doesn’t know them. He can’t say for sure whether Jensen is glad to see him, but he doesn’t have to wonder for long. Jensen shoves his things into Chris's arms and takes off running, and within moments, Jensen passes the threshold of the gates.

Jared meets him on the other side, like he always promised he would.

Jensen doesn’t fling his arms around Jared's neck like Jared wishes he would. Instead, he stops a foot away, looking Jared over with glassy eyes and an expression Jared could never be smart enough to read.

"Look at you," he finally says, voice breaking as he reaches out to cup Jared's cheek with one hand. The other he moves down Jared's chest, tugging on the fabric of Jared's hoodie. "Front pocket and everything." He licks his lips and whispers, "You look free."

"I am now," he says, taking Jensen's hand in his own and pressing his forehead to Jensen's. "We both are."

"Can I kiss you?" Jensen asks.

"I told you so," Jared replies. "I told you a year ago, didn't I? That you would kiss me eventually."

Jensen shuts him up with his mouth, and they stay like that until Chris has caught up to them.

"You know, I'm here, too," he grumbles. "Just your best friend since you were eight years old. No one worry about me."

Jared laughs, which breaks the kiss, and he pulls back enough to see Jensen, to really take him in. 

That's when it happens. Jensen looks up at Jared, and smiles. It reaches his eyes.

**The End.**


End file.
